


What's Underneath

by la_rubinita



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Angel Big Bang, F/M, Max and Alec's A+ Communication, Post-Season/Series 02, Sex, Terminal City, White is a douche
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 03:32:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10890813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_rubinita/pseuds/la_rubinita
Summary: Alec teaches Max to get over herself.  The hard way.  But, nothing was ever easy between them anyway.





	What's Underneath

**Author's Note:**

> Written ages and ages ago for the 2011 Dark Angel Big Bang, I'm only just now getting around to moving my archive over to AO3. Beta'd by the lovely alchemynerd. It seriously wouldn't haven happened without her. skylar0grace did some amazing artwork for it, and you can still find it here: http://skylar0grace.livejournal.com/102073.html. Originally posted in four parts, but I made it all one long work here because I'm lazy.

**What’s Underneath: Part 1**

**Day 43**

In all the fantasy flicks Alec had ever seen, there was always the part where the guy with the sword leading the helpless travelers through the wilderness would stop and whisper, ‘Do you hear that?’ The brash youth, or frightened, lovestruck girl would say, ‘I don’t hear anything,’ to which the hero would reply, ‘Exactly.’ Like crickets and sparrows knew when shit was going down.

That was what it was like, right before everything blew up in their faces. There were no insects, no alley cats squabbling, no hum of hover drones, or the deeper rumble of poorly-tuned automobiles passing. Alec could pick up a cell phone ringing from three blocks, but the only thing he heard then was the toilet leaking across the corridor and Max and Zara talking quietly from the office at the other end of the hall as they shuffled through papers. Transport manifests: that’s what they were looking for. There was supposed to be a bus-full of captured transgenics being shipped out of the city in the next few days, and they were planning an extraction.

It was grating on his nerves, though. The silence.

He stepped away from his lookout spot at the window, scanning the deserted lot one more time. His brain was working on which argument would be most efficient in convincing Max that they had to leave, when gunfire ripped through the glass, showering him with shining shards. He ducked instinctively and dove away. There was more gunfire, and then some more, and when Max called out for him, her voice tight, he found himself making a break across the room.

Alec made it to the hallway unscathed, just in time for the tear gas canisters to burst through the exit doors at both ends and immediately activate, rapidly filling the narrow passage with the noxious, stinging fumes. About ten seconds after that, came the men. Soldiers. Creepy snake-cult minions. It didn’t matter; they had gasmasks and guns and—  
__

_Bang!_

“No!” It was Max again, but this time it sounded like the words were torn from her throat.

There were already a dozen men sweeping the offices, searching for them. What they didn’t know was that Alec could hold his breath for nearly six minutes, so instead of coughing and crying, he was able to use the smoke as a cover and ran toward Max and Zara. Sounds of hand-to-hand combat reached his ears. There was a crash from inside the office at the end of the hall where the corridor bent in an L, then the sound of wood snapping coupled with a half-stifled cry.

Alec’s stomach sank, but he quickly dispatched the two guys with masks that came around the corner, just as he was about to enter. He took one of their radios and both of their guns.

The room was a disaster. All of the windows had been shot out, too, and the desk had been smashed in half, probably by the broken soldier lying prone across the wreckage. A second guy, crumpled on the floor by the door, had a broken arm, leg, and a shiner on his unmasked face suggesting his forehead had become intimately acquainted with the doorframe. A third had been tossed out the open window, his unconscious body precariously balanced on the sill.

When his eyes fell on Max though, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. She was sat in the middle of the floor cradling Zara to her chest and trying so hard not to cry that it looked like it hurt. There was blood all over the floor, and the limp way Zara’s hand dangled in it made his stomach turn.

Alec swallowed, the creeping tear gas burning his throat. “We need to go.”

Max glared at him. “We can’t just leave her.”

Hearing footsteps approaching, Alec popped his head out, aimed the assault rifle, and fired three short bursts. Return fire sounded from the opposite direction, and he hastily ducked back inside the office. They were so fucked.

“Now, Max!” he barked. “She’s dead. And unless you plan on fighting a small army with her body strapped to your back, maybe you should snap out of it and give me a hand.”

Reluctantly and with much glaring, Max gently laid Zara on the floor and stood. “Any brilliant ideas?”

“We blow the place.”

Max arched a brow.

“About ten feet back there’s a janitor’s closet. Money says we can come up with something that goes boom.”

Max shrugged and walked to the demolished desk, where she lifted the guy she’d taken out earlier. His lower extremities swung in an unnatural way as Max turned and crossed to the door. Apparently he’d broken his back along with the desk.

“Cover me.”

Alec nodded, stepping in beside her. He fired back the way he had come, making sure the assailants ducked long enough to safely get Max into the hallway. She moved quickly, using the dead man as a shield. He fired down to the other end of the hall as well, keeping the crossfire to a minimum.

Less than a minute later, a mop bucket full of plastic bottles and a five-gallon bucket were rolled down the hall. Alec quickly pulled them inside before providing Max with cover fire for the return.

Max hurried back to the office, where she discarded her human shield like a dirty napkin. Alec stifled a snort; for all Max liked to preach about taking the high road, she had a vindictive streak about a mile wide. Sure, she’d probably beat herself up over it later, but in the heat of the moment Alec had learned it was best to get the hell out of dodge.

“There was a water heater in the closet.”

Alec allowed himself to be cautiously optimistic. “Gas or electric?”

“Gas,” Max replied, sounding slightly pleased. “I broke the line. In about two minutes there should be enough gas in the hallway to turn the place into a small crater.”

“Spec-freaking-tacular.”

As Alec ensured their assailants kept their distance, he could hear the splash and sizzle of Max mixing caustic liquids behind him. Then she began shifting the wreckage of the desk around, coming up with a package of cigarettes and a book of matches. She broke the cigarette off nearly all the way down then carefully lit it and folded it up in the matchbook with the cherry sticking out the end. She balanced it precariously on the edge of the mop bucket, so that when the matches caught it would fall into the flammable liquids.

A moment later, Max tossed Alec a gas mask. She was already wearing one.

“We good?” asked Alec.

“We’re good.”

“Great. Let’s blow this joint.”

Already smelling the gas from the busted water heater, Alec grabbed the radio and pushed the talk button. “Oh my God, there’s a bomb! Everyone move out! Move out!”

It took less than a second for everyone to respond. Even the most seasoned gunmen had issues with being blown to smithereens. As soon as the footsteps began to retreat, Max and Alec ducked out and ran after them, following them halfway down the block. Dressed in black, carrying firearms, and wearing gasmasks, no one paid them any mind.

They especially didn’t notice when the building finally blew, sending debris about a hundred feet into the air, and busting out all the windows and streetlamps on the road. Nearly everyone was bowled over by the concussion, but the now pitch-black street hid the only two on their feet as they discarded the guns and masks and bolted down the street.

 

Max ignored Alec all the way back to the only current tunnel leading into Terminal City, and when she finally did say something, it was somewhat less than ideal.

“How could this possibly be my fault?” Alec demanded as he practically chased Max through the sewers.

If she thought he was just going to let her walk away after accusing him of blowing the mission, she had another thing coming. It had all gone sideways so fast, he still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what happened. All he knew was that it wasn’t his fault.

“Right. I’m sorry. I forgot – the great Alec never screws anything up,” Max snapped derisively. “Maybe if you just did as you were told for once instead of making everything up as you go – “

“Do as I’m told?” Alec said, his voice rising, echoing down the broad pipes. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve done pretty much nothing but what you’ve told me to do since we came to Terminal City. ‘Alec, do this. Alec, do that. Alec, jump on one foot with your hands in the air, singing hey-no-ni-no-ni’. Not _once_ have I questioned you.”

“You were supposed to keep a lookout!” Max said, changing the subject.

“I did. They sent a small army out to get us, which strongly suggests we have a traitor in the camp. And _you_ had no exit strategy! You were so sure we’d get in and out without a problem, that you didn’t plan for the shit to hit the fan. You wanted to lead? Take some damn responsibility, because I won’t be your whipping boy. Not this time.”

Max spun around then, eyes flashing. Even in the dark of the tunnel, Alec could see the smears of red staining her arms as she thrust them toward him.

“Responsibility?” she all but shouted. “Zara’s blood is literally on my hands. She died in my arms, and you want to talk to me about responsibility? Our sister is dead, Alec. Do you even care, or is your own reputation all you care about?”

Alec froze instantly, his hands balled into tight fists at his side. He spoke through clenched teeth. “Do not think for one moment that because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve that it doesn’t rip me up inside every time we lose one of ours. You talk about brothers and sisters and family like you’re the only one who gets it, but you’re not.”

Cat-quick, Max smacked him hard on the cheek. “Go to hell.”

Alec watched her go, and wondered if they’d ever get to a point where they could stand to be in the same room with each other without one of them wanting to put their fist through a wall.

**Day 47**

Max really, really hated it when Alec was right. He had this way of pointing out what should have been blindingly obvious that made her feel like an idiot for not having seen it herself. It surprised her sometimes, how much insight he possessed, especially when it came to people. He spent so much time putting up the smart-ass façade that she often forgot that he was trained for deep cover missions, where reading a person’s intentions and motivations were key to his survival. And he was usually just as smug about it as he was everything else.

But not this time.

It had taken a couple of days to admit to herself, but Max knew now that Zara’s death was more her fault than it would ever be his. She _hadn’t_ planned on being caught, and was used to working solo. It was a hell of a lot easier to get just herself out of sticky situations than it was to make sure three got out with all limbs attached.

It was also apparent now that the whole thing had been a set-up. Getting in had been too easy, so she should have known that getting out would be the hard part. The thought that they had a turncoat in Terminal City made her ill and angry by turns, but was totally inescapable. Writing Zara’s death off as an unfortunate twist of fate would endanger everyone in Terminal City.

The tough part would be flushing out whoever it was. Manticore’s progeny had all developed an extreme sense of self-preservation, and the traitor would have taken equally extreme measures to ensure that their cover remained in place.

Alec was also right about how she treated him, though Max would never tell him that. She was so quick to blame him because it was easy. On the outside, it usually was Alec’s fault, but not in Terminal City. Sure, he still hit on anything with the proper anatomy, and he still wore that devil-may-care grin with mind-numbing regularity, but he’d left the hijinx behind. He saw their situation for what it was: they were soldiers under siege, and he acted like it. Even when Alec disagreed with Max, he never called her on it in front of the others; he always pulled her aside to say his piece.

Max supposed she’d have to give him credit for that, if nothing else.

 

She knew that at dawn, Alec met with Raif, a transgenic who had been given a night-vision upgrade by the docs at Manticore. Raif led the night-time perimeter patrols, for obvious reasons, and Alec liked to hear his report as early as possible so Raif could get back inside before his eyes were burned out of his skull by the sun. She vaguely wondered if Alec ever slept. She wondered why she was worried, when she never slept either.

Everything was blue and violet, and Terminal City was as quiet as a grave. Transgenics only made noise when they wanted to, and people had moved even farther away from the perimeter, out of fear or distaste or both, so even the sounds of Seattle were muted. It was kind of eerie.

Max waited until last night’s shift had departed for their beds, and the morning’s for their positions before approaching the shack they had erected to serve as a guard station for the north-east end of the compound. Alec was leaning against the door frame, eating slices of apple from the blade of a knife that was a touch too large for the task.

His eyes were on the rapidly lightening sky, fresh touches of amber and gold making his hair glow. She could tell by the tense, almost rigid hold of his body that he wasn’t pleased to see her. Not that she blamed him, really; she had been kind of a bitch the last time they talked.

Max leaned up against the side of the shack, facing him. After a moment, he cut the apple clean in half and offered it to her. She took it, sensing he was offering more than a little breakfast, and took a bite. A soft happy noise caught in her throat, which Alec correctly translated as a ‘thank you’, if his ‘you’re welcome’ grunt was any indicator.

Max wondered when they started communicating nonverbally. She rather liked it. Sometimes it was nice to not have to say something, no matter how trivial.

“I’ve been thinking,” Max began softly, swallowing the apple.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Maxie,” Alec said.

There was just enough bite to it though, that Max knew he was more defensive than angry. Because that’s what Alec did. He blocked it all out with sarcasm, wrapped himself in witty rejoinders, then threw up a wall of insincere flippancy, just so no one would know what was going on in that pretty, remarkably complicated head of his.

It quite suddenly occurred to Max that she had actually hurt Alec with her accusations concerning the circumstances of Zara’s death. How many times had she blindly lashed out at him, just because he was there and she was stressed or angry? How many times had she accused him of screwing things up before all the facts were in?

How many times had he _just taken it?_

An apology stuck in her throat, so she had to force her reply out around the obstruction.

“You were right.” It was almost the same thing, right?

Alec went very, very still, knife poised halfway through a slice, his jaw clenched. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’m usually right.”  
__

_About all of it_. The words she couldn’t say rang out in the silence of her hesitation.

“About there being a traitor in Terminal City.”

Alec made a funny noise deep in his chest that she was pretty sure was a combination of ‘well, duh’ and ‘what are you going to do about it?’

“I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

For the first time since she approached him, Alec looked at Max, his eyes sharp and searching and _way_ more green in the morning sun than she ever remembered. It made her inexplicably antsy.

“You spend more time with everyone here.” God, she hated admitting this – “You know them better than I do. If anyone’s going to notice someone acting weird or suspicious, it’s gonna be you.”

“You’re asking for my help.” It wasn’t a question.

Max met his gaze steadily. “You’re the only one I trust with this.”

There was a beat where Alec’s expression remained frozen and stoic and Max was _positive_ he was going to tell her to stuff it. Images of burning bridges flashed across her mind. It was unpleasant.

Then his lips twitched upward, ever so slightly, but it reached his eyes so Max knew she’d been forgiven.

**Day 50**

“Hey, Dix, you seen Max?” Alec said, approaching Command central.

It had come a long way since their first days in Terminal City. All sorts of electronic equipment had been salvaged or commandeered over the past weeks, including two damaged but useable large-screen monitors, a set of walkie-talkie radios and a signal jammer, as well as enough computer gadgets to hack just about anything imaginable.

“Had a couple of incomings,” Dix replied distractedly.

His eyes never left the lines of code he was studying as his fingers typed away at the keyboard more quickly than any ordinary could have managed. Alec had set him to mirroring some of Eyes Only’s hacks so they didn’t have to wait for a heads up from Logan to know that shit was going down. First on the list were Seattle P.D.’s communications and hover drones. The police were still wrangling with White and his government cronies over who would control the Transgenic Situation, and it would be easier to get information from the notoriously leak-prone police department than White’s lot.

“And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning to me?” Alec said, kind of annoyed. “Come on Dix, you know what kind of security measures we’ve got in place after what happened with CJ.”

Alec’s tone must have caught Dix’s attention, because he finally tore his eyes away from the computer monitor. He straightened his monocle and shrugged.

“She was here when the call came – looking for you, actually. Got all – “ he flapped his hands in front of him and pulled a face – “when she heard their designations. Then she ran off. Said she’d handle it.”

“Did she take anyone with her?”

Dix shrugged unhelpfully. “I figured she’d take you.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Alec snapped. “How long ago?”

“About an hour.”

“Jesus, Max,” Alec muttered. It was stupid how often she forgot there was a target on her back. He dug his cell out of his pocket and took the stairs down two at a time. “What exit?” he called back.

“Sewer at Magnolia and Commerce.”

He punched the Send button as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Ben?”

Alec froze, his insides going cold. He didn't recognize the voice, but it was filled with disbelief and so much _hope_ that it almost hurt. He looked up.

The woman who spoke was petite and blonde, but she held herself like she knew she could do some damage. The look on her face matched her voice and Alec suddenly hated himself for having to let her down.

The dude behind her was dark and slender and looked so much like Max he could have actually passed for her brother. Max stood next to him, stock-still and as tense as Alec, a stunned expression on her face. And something that looked suspiciously like shame. Her cell was still ringing off in her pocket.

Alec and Max never talked about Ben. Never even said his name. He was a ghost that haunted them; a wall that would forever stand between them. Alec could still remember the look on Max's face the first time they'd met in her cell at Manticore. She'd looked a lot like the blonde did now.

Alec forced a grin. “Nah, think of me as Ben 2.0, without the side of crazy. My designation’s 494, but you can call me Alec.”

Unconscious steps were taken, and Alec extended his hand. The blonde shook it.

“Sorry, I'm Syl.”

“Krit,” the dark guy said, also offering his hand. “We saw Max on the news a few weeks ago, and had to come see her with our own eyes.”

“Well, in that case, welcome to our humble nuclear quarantine. There's more ammo than food, but the bars are open all night.”

Syl smiled, but Alec was anxious to get the hell outta there. He turned to Max, and his next words nearly died on his lips. She looked so… grief-stricken. Like someone just died.

“Dix said you were looking for me?” he forced out. He managed to keep the mask from slipping, though. Alec winked at Syl. “Maxie here just can't get enough of me.”

If he'd expected a scowl or an eye roll, he was disappointed. Instead she just looked at him like she saw right through him. It was a little unnerving, and left him feeling exposed.

Max cleared her throat and put on a fake smile, too. “ _Alec_ here is a bit full of himself. We've got some supplies scheduled to arrive later. Could you get a team together and pick it up?”

“Yeah, sure,” Alec said raking a hand through his hair. “I'll, uh, I'll let you guys get settled, and if you ask her real nice I bet Max’ll give you the grand tour.”

Alec walked away before anyone could get another word in, and he didn't even feel bad about it. He felt Max's eyes boring a hole in his back though, all the way to the door.

 

Max hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to just _talk_ until her throat was raw from it. Syl and Krit were both anxious for information, considering Lydecker had told them both she was KIA. So Max had told them everything, from Zack’s sacrifice, right up to the day the shit hit the fan at Jam Pony. It felt good, liberating; like a great burden had been lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe again.

“At least he’s safe,” Syl murmured when Max had finished. “Zack, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Krit said, taking a swig of his beer.

“I was pretty messed up about it at first,” Max confessed. “After all we’d been through; it seemed so unfair that we had to lose each other again. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he deserved it, ya know? He spent so long taking care of us, watching our backs, always in battle mode. The sacrifices he made for us – it kinda feels like this is his reward.”

Syl nodded, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “With any luck, he’ll find himself a nice ordinary to settle down with and have a whole brood of intense, borderline obsessive geniuses.”

Max chuckled and raised her beer bottle. “To Zack.”

Glass clinked as their bottles met in the center of the table, and Max settled comfortably into the companionable silence that followed. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt this at ease. If she closed her eyes, she could even pretend she was at the old apartment she shared with OC and not the hole in the wall transgenics in Seattle got to call home.

Not that her old digs _weren’t_ a hole in the wall, but they’d been hers and that was more important to Max than living in some posh penthouse.

The serenity came crashing down though, when Krit cleared his throat. “Max, what happened to Ben?”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of Max’s lungs, and her eyes stung. There was a reason she never talked about Ben; never even let herself think about him, really. She took a deep breath.

“I should have told you last time, but with Tinga and Lydecker… it just never came up.”

“It _was_ kind of crazy,” Syl said, offering an encouraging smile.

Max stared at her fingers as they fiddled with her now empty bottle. It would be easier that way.

“Remember back at Manticore, the stories he used to tell?” Syl and Krit nodded. “He had an answer for everything, things he couldn’t possibly know. It was kind of comforting, ya know? Because having it wrong was better than the big fat nothing Manticore gave us.

“After we escaped… he couldn’t – nothing made sense anymore. Everything he believed was a lie, and I keep thinking that maybe if we hadn’t scattered so well, that if one of us had been with him it never would have happened.”

Max finally looked up at her siblings. Their curiosity had already turned to dread, so Max figured she should probably get it over with as soon as possible. This was way harder than when she’d told Alec. Ben may have been Alec’s genetic double, but he had been a brother to Syl and Krit. They were emotionally invested. There was also the chance they might hate her for what she did.

“I wouldn’t have caught wind of him at all if he hadn’t tattooed his barcode onto the necks of all his victims.” Syl drew breath sharply, but Max ploughed ahead. “There were eleven of them that we know of, all over the country. I thought I’d gotten through to him,” she finished quietly.

“Max—“ Krit said.

“We fought, in the woods. He was injured and Maticore was breathing down our necks. He was so scared.” Max stopped, angrily swiping at the rebellious tears staining her cheeks. “He asked me to, and I did it. I killed our brother, and then I ran, like a coward.”

Max remembered everything about that moment. The pine needles sticking through her jeans as she held him to her, the cologne he wore, the desperation in his eyes. Her fingers tingled with the memory of his neck snapping beneath them, super-human yet still so fragile. It made her sick.

Syl was crying, too; she wiped the tears away with her shirtsleeve. “Did he suffer?”

Max shook her head.

“I kind of wish I hadn’t asked,” Krit said. He looked a little ill. Max could empathize.

“Alec knows, doesn’t he?” Syl whispered. “That’s why he looked like I’d punched him in the gut.”

“Yeah,” Max replied softly. “He got picked up for one of Ben’s murders a few months ago. I kind of had to tell him after that.”

“How did he take it?” Krit asked.

Max furrowed her brow. She remembered Alec kissing her hair and telling her he was sorry. She remembered him trying to make her laugh about it the next morning, but they hadn’t spoken of it since.

“I don’t know,” she said. That was also the night she’d ended things with Logan. Even Max would admit that she had a tendency to get wrapped up in her own shit. “I never thought to ask.”

“I’d say not well, from the looks of it,” Syl said.

“Seriously, though, how would you feel if you found out that your clone turned out to be a serial killer?” Krit added.

Max _had_ met her clone. Sam was a bit of a bitch, even by Max’s standards, but she was just looking out for her own and Max got that. She’d never even considered what it would be like to know that there was someone out there made from the exact same test tube goo she was that also happened to be a homicidal sociopath.

“I think Maxie’s just had an epiphany,” Syl whispered to Krit, who nodded in agreement.

“I gotta go,” Max said hastily. “We’ll do this again.”

“Yeah,” Krit said. “Only with less crying. Please.”

Max smiled. “Deal.”

 

Knowing now what had become of Ben, Alec often wondered if Manticore had trained him as an assassin with the intent to push Alec over that same ledge. To see if he’d snap and shatter like his twin had and start killing people just to bring order to his own twisted corner of the world.

No, not killing. Murdering.

That’s what he was, really: a murderer. ‘Following orders’ and ‘there’s a bomb in my brain’ only got one so far in the Valid Excuses Department. He’d never questioned the former, and he’d volunteered for the latter. Maybe he was more like Ben than he’d ever imagined.

Because the Berrisfords may have been his first deep cover assignment, but they weren’t his first marks. Alec had done his first hit at age sixteen, and had done such a bang-up job that, with a few exceptions, it was pretty much all he did for Manticore. It also made him wonder how long Ben had actually been killing - murdering – people, considering how young they started Alec. Or maybe Renfro had simply seen something in him.

Not that it really mattered. He still had blood all over his hands. Blood he’d never be able to wash away, no matter how long he stood in the cold Seattle rain. It was pounding violently onto the rooftop, fat, heavy drops that stung his flesh and soaked him instantly. An ordinary would have been shivering by now, but Alec felt numb and disconnected as he allowed the summer thunderstorm to pummel him.

He thought he should have gone somewhere warm and sunny, and wished for a moment that he’d never come to Seattle in the first place. At the time it had seemed logical enough; a big city was easy to hide in, and there was a better chance of him blending in than in a smaller town, where everyone knew everyone and trusted no one.

And there was Max. At first it had just been fun to annoy her. Her connection to Logan had also proven beneficial for him too, but that didn’t explain why he stayed. He could have made his own luck anywhere, so why did he pick _here?_ Especially when luck seemed to be a pretty rare commodity these days. Maybe if he’d left, he never would have made any friends, because having friends sometimes hurt more than not. Maybe if he’d left he never would have learned about Ben, or spontaneously grown a conscience, and would have gone merrily on his way, blissfully unaware of his own moral shortcomings.

Between crashes of thunder, Alec heard the rooftop access open and close behind him. He turned, and was unsurprised to find Max staring at him. She seemed uncertain, though, which was a totally new look for her.

Alec turned away again, really not in the mood for Max’s brand of company. “Whatever it is this time, find someone else. I don’t much feel like being your errand boy tonight.”

There was no response, which was odd for Max, who always had a snide comment waiting just for him, and the feel of her eyes on him was irritating.

“Well?” he snapped. “What do you want?”

“I want you to tell me what’s really got your shorts in a knot.”

Alec refused to respond in the hopes that she’d give up and leave him alone. Then her hand was on his arm, soft but steady, and he found himself turning to face her. Max didn’t do soft. At least not with him. She was all hard planes and sharp edges, so sharp she didn’t even realize when she’d just shredded you to pieces.

“I told you once that I trusted you, and I meant it. Now I’m telling you that you can trust me, too.”

Really _not_ what Alec was expecting. The truth in her eyes made his skin burn, despite the rain.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” he forced out.

“Why not? I think you’ve proven that you’re worth it.”

“Don’t say that,” he whispered harshly.

“It’s true.”

Alec clamped his jaw shut, and focused all his energy on slowing his breathing down to normal levels. They were heading into dangerous waters.

“This is about Ben.”

It wasn’t a question. Leave it to Max to jump into the deep end, head first. He couldn’t shake those dark, searching eyes, and when she spoke he knew she’d found his reply before he had.

“You’re not him.”

Alec responded fiercely, pinning her to the door behind her with so much force he felt her startled exhalation of breath on his face. He fisted his left hand in her shirt and pressed his right forearm firmly against her windpipe, holding her in place. Max reflexively grasped his arms, but she didn’t fight him. Alec leaned in close, close enough their noses almost brushed, and met her gaze head on.

“Are you sure about that?”

Max raised her chin, exposing even more of her vulnerable, graceful neck and glared defiantly. Unafraid. “Yes.”

Rage rushed through him, and Alec let it. How could she not see what he was? She’d told him herself once that she knew he was capable of killing in cold blood. Why was she choosing now to change her mind?

“I’m a killer, Maxie,” he snarled. “It’s what I was made to be, what I was trained to do.”

“You’re still not him,” she rasped.

“You don’t know that!” he shouted, shaking her hard. “You don’t know what I’ve done. Did you think that Rach- the Berrisfords were my first? My last? I’ve killed more people that you’ll ever believe. Some of them with my bare hands. Sometimes I even enjoyed it. So, tell me: How am I _not_ him?”

“Did you know that he tattooed his barcode on his victims?” Max replied. “He told me that war was art and the world was his battlefield, but really he was just killing himself over and over again. He was broken, Alec, and I don’t mean damaged. Everyone’s damaged, especially people like us. I mean ¬ _utterly destroyed._ He hated himself – but never for what he did to his victims. I could see it in his eyes.”

Alec tried to focus on breathing and not on Max’s words whirling around inside his skull, because destroyed was just a little too close to how he felt for comfort.

“What do you see in mine?” he whispered, like maybe she wouldn’t hear him, and he wouldn’t have to know the answer.

Max looked hard, Alec so tense that his every muscle protested. He felt about to burst out of his skin, or pop and fray like dry-rotted rope.

“Fear,” Max said at last. “And a whole lotta guilt. Mostly just you, though.”

“Max-“ Alec choked out. Unconsciously, he loosened his grip on her and leaned forward. He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Max released his wrists, one hand sliding down his arm, then the outside of his ribcage to fist in his shirt. The other tenderly cupped his cheek. She took a deep breath, now that she could.

“You’re a good man, Alec.”

Alec tried to jerk away, because she was just _wrong_ , he knew it, and he didn’t think he could stand it if she was just telling him what she thought he needed to hear. Because he did need to hear it. He needed _her_ to say it. He needed her to mean it too, because, he realized, that was why he’d stayed. He had wanted to prove her wrong, prove that he was better than that guy who looked like the brother she’d killed and kept fucking up her life just by breathing.

Why was another question, however.

Max didn’t let him flee; she’d been prepared for his reaction and yanked him back to her. She threw an arm around his neck, wrapped the other around his back and held on tight. She molded herself to him, willed him to melt into her, like he could crawl inside her and hide until the storm passed. Alec hesitated for a very long moment before finally returning the embrace. He felt himself begin to tremble as the tension ebbed away. Max held him that much tighter.

“You stopped being a stranger with my brother’s face a long time ago,” she whispered.

For some reason, Alec believed her.

**Day 52**

“Rise and shine, sweetheart.”

It was only his super human reflexes that prevented Alec’s face from kissing the floor as Max unceremoniously rolled him off his bed.

“I didn’t realize that Terminal City offered wake-up calls,” he grumbled, flipping onto his back.

“Call it a service reserved for our premier clients.”

Alec scrubbed his face with his hands, wishing he was still asleep. It felt like weeks since he’d had a decent night’s rest. Between helping Max get the place up and running and organizing perimeter patrols -- and inventory, and sleeping arrangements, and about a hundred other things -- there hadn’t been a whole lot of Alec Time.

“I’m honored, really, but go away.”

“We gotta bounce. Heard over the police radio there’s a bunch of transgenics holed up in an abandoned house in Sector Three. We need to leave now if we’re gonna get there before the whole thing goes pear-shaped.”

Alec sighed and pushed himself off the ground. She was still as demanding as ever, but he had to give her brownie points for treating him like he hadn’t had a total meltdown the other night. Though he did notice that she’d been smiling a lot more lately, but it may have been because her brother and sister were planning to stay until the Fat Lady sang. He wasn’t going to complain; she had a great smile, when she meant it.

Max tossed him his boots and turned to leave. “We’re wheels up in three.”

Glancing longingly at his bed, Alec tugged his boots on, grabbed the rest of his gear, and followed Max.

  
“I don’t like it,” Alec declared, taking in the scene.

They were parked a ways up the block, but he could still see it all clearly. Being a genetic experiment did have some perks. There were too many ordinaries congregated in front of the building, and they were getting antsy. Alec could see that some of them had weapons, mostly pipes and hammers, but there were probably more than a few handguns hidden in that crowd.

There were also three squad cars parked in the street, though the cops seemed as reluctant to enter the premises as everyone else, and no sign of White which probably meant he had men everywhere. Over the past weeks, they’d taken a page out of the Transgenic Playbook, and were running a Stealth game, rather than a Bust Everything Up and Hope No One Asks Too Many Questions game. They were probably hidden all around the block.

And the van smelled.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Max said, her eyes glued on the house. It was dilapidated, like most things in Seattle, but it looked like it had probably been a cute little home with a green yard and two-point-five kids before the Pulse.

Suddenly, Max reached out and grabbed Alec’s arm, her eyes going wide.

“Oh my God, is that--? Alec, I think that’s Bullett… and Ralph.”

“The kids we helped across the border?” Alec said, hastily turning his attention toward the house rather than the mob. “What were the other two called?”

“Zero and Fixit,” Max replied, a bit distractedly. “What the hell are they doing here? I told them to stay gone.”

“I don’t know, nice weather, friendly neighborhood atmosphere… Why wouldn’t they want to drop in for a visit?”

Krit snorted. “That must be it.”

The van door slid open with a mighty creak, and Syl climbed in. She crouched next to Krit, who shut the door behind her.

“I didn’t see anything to suggest we’re being watched,” she began. And there’s a rear entrance to the house, a cellar. The backyard is fenced off, so there aren’t any ordinaries back there. We could probably get in that way.”

The shouting down the street became markedly more enthusiastic, and Alec turned just in time to see three punk ass kids throw some Molotov cocktails through the windows. Flames whooshed out.

“Looks like planning time’s over, guys,” Alec said.

“Damn,” Max swore. Alec could see her brain calculating, working out the best way to get in and out without losing anyone. “Mole, drop us off at the front door, would you?”

“Max,” Alec said slowly, “you know I got your back, but that’s a Terrible Idea.”

“I like it,” Mole said with slightly more zeal than Alec was strictly comfortable with.

“Are you cra—“

Mole chuckled darkly and gunned it, throwing Alec against the back wall of the van, cutting short his protestations. They shot down the block as fast as the old Econoline would go, jumped the curb, drove through the neighboring house’s yard and fishtailed to a stop at the front door. The mob had momentarily dispersed to avoid being flattened, and the body of the van would protect the short dash across the yard from the police who were present and any snipers White may have hidden in any of the surrounding homes.

Max whirled two fingers in a circle next to her head. “Take her around the block and wait for us to exit from the back.”

Alec recovered his balance quickly, and was the first out the door. The others followed, Max bringing up the rear. He took the porch steps two at a time, and threw his shoulder against the door. The force of his momentum shattered it clear off its hinges.

The two rooms facing the street, what looked like a living room and maybe a dining room, were ablaze, but mostly just where the accelerant had splattered when the bottles shattered. The house was so old though, Alec knew it wouldn’t take long for it all to go up in smoke.

The stairs were right near the front door, and Max lead the way now with Alec right behind her. The upstairs had three bedrooms and a small bathroom, but only one door was shut. They were halfway down the hall, when a short burst of gunfire ripped through the old door like it was paper. Alec hit the deck instinctively, dragging Max down with him. Syl and Krit were still on the stairs, crouched and waiting for Max’s signal.

“Jesus,” Alec muttered. “You good?”

Max nodded. “Ralph, Bullett! It’s Max and Alec.”

“Remember us?” Alec added. “We’re here to save your asses again, so don’t shoot the cavalry!”

Max punched Alec in the arm.

“Ow!”

There was an excited flurry of movement and hastily spoken words on the other side of the door before it was flung open, revealing a disheveled Ralph. Her long blonde hair was in a loose plait, holding it back from her face, but there was grass stuck in it and grime smeared on her face, making her look like she’d spent the night in a barn. She had a pistol in one hand and looked so relieved Alec thought she might cry. Ralph was remarkably soft for being a product of Manticore.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see anyone in my life,” she declared.

Max and Alec both hopped to their feet. A wave from Max, and Syl and Krit joined them.

Bullet stepped into view behind Ralph, looking just as rough. His hair stuck up at odd angles like he’d been raking his hands through it all day and had a nasty abrasion on his left cheek. The assault rifle he had strapped over his shoulder looked just like the ones Sector Police carried. An all around interesting day, by the looks of it.

“Please tell me you have a plan.”

“Eh,” Alec said, entering the room. “If you call sneaking out the basement a plan, then yeah, we’re golden.”

“It’s better than being burned to death by an angry mob,” Max snapped. “Where are Fixit and Zero?”

Ralph pointed to the corner of the room farthest from the window. The bed there was in shambles, but they’d pulled the mattress onto the floor. Fixit lay upon it, white as a sheet, her clothes caked with blood, both dried and fresh. Zero knelt next to her, pressing an old towel firmly against the young girl’s abdomen. Alec noted that he was by far the most cleanly of the lot, and got the feeling that they all went out of their way to protect the kid from the worst of whatever it was they’d been through. He was inexplicably proud of them all.

“Watch out,” Krit said sharply, pushing his way through them toward Fixit. Zero moved out of the way while Krit inspected the wound. “Sharp-force trauma, pretty deep. A hunting knife, maybe?”

“Can we move her?” Max asked.

“We’re going to have to,” Alec said, gesturing to the floor. Smoke was seeping through the cracks in the warped boards.

No one needed much convincing after that. Krit scooped Fixit up in one smooth motion, like she weighed nothing, while Syl went to Zero and herded him toward the door. Max went next, followed by Ralph and Bullet. Alec brought up the rear.

They hurried down the stairs and through the living room, careful to skirt the flames now licking the wall and what was left of a love seat. There was a nice little traffic jam when they reached the kitchen, though, and Alec nearly ran Ralph over.

“What the-?”

“You have got to be shitting me,” Max said, clearly frustrated.

Alec shoved his way past the kids and froze next to Max. “Figures.”

“452,” the red-headed woman greeted. Thula. And all of her goons. They filled the kitchen, one of them specifically guarding the door to the cellar. They had been waiting for them. Alec wanted to knock the smug grin right off her face.

“She-ra,” Max countered.

“Oooh, no, you know who she looks like?” Alec said. “Xena.”

“Or Carrot Top.”

“I honestly don’t know which is worse.”

Thula cocked her head and glared at Alec. “The lap dog has a sense of humor.”

Alec bristled, but Max gently put her hand on his wrist. The contact instantly silenced him. Not so much because anyone could _ever_ get him to shut up if he didn’t want to, but because Max’s touch had been doing funny things to him lately. While Alec really didn’t mind Max touching him he kind of wished she hadn’t just then. Thula’s lips curled into what might have been a smile or a sneer; however, as though her point had been made for her.

“As much as I’d love to hang around and test the limits of your witty repartee, our ride’s waiting. Raincheck?” Max said brightly.

It seemed like everything happened at once after that. Max and Thula lunged for each other, trading blow for blow and block for block until they were hardly more than a blur of limbs. Bullet stepped in front of Ralph, his gun held at the ready, and Syl shoved Zero behind Krit before engaging the two goons who moved her way. Petite and lithe she may have been, but she was also as capable as Alec had assumed and nearly as fast as Max.

Krit hesitated, debating between laying Fixit down inside a burning building to fight or waiting and hoping for an exit. Alec made his decision for him. He took a step backward, snatched the pistol from Ralph’s hand and shot the guy guarding the cellar door in the head. The man hadn’t even had time to react and crumpled on the floor like a limp rag. Although, Alec did kind of half-expect him to jump up and shake it off. Apparently Conclave human weapons were at the top of the head-shot only list, right next to Zombies.

“Get them outta here!” he shouted at Krit. Then he grabbed Ralph’s arm and shoved her toward the door, slipping the pistol back into her hand. It had served its purpose, and she and Bullet would need all the ammo they could get to protect the van in case the mob out front got wise to what was going down.

Bullett retreated without being told, his rifle trained on the only thug in the room not fighting. It was the same chick Alec had fought at Jam Pony. She approached, no, _stalked_ toward them, like a lioness on the prowl, her eyes predatory. She looked like she was going to enjoy ripping Alec apart. Alec sighed; it would figure he’d get the sadistic one.

“That was my brother,” she snarled.

“My condolences. Remind me to send flowers.”

Alec barely had time to dodge the fist aimed at his face and then block the kick she sent toward his ribs. But he was ready for her this time; he knew how she fought, knew what to expect. Knew how to bait her.

For half a beat, he left his chest exposed, and she wasted no time. Abnormally strong fists dug into the lapels of his jacket. Just before her arms locked to lift him off the ground, he slammed his fists down onto her elbows and they buckled. The force set her slightly off balance, and Alec used the split second to slam his boot square onto her kneecap. Then he grabbed her shoulders with both hands and head-butted her so hard she actually fell on the floor.

Alec went to straddle her chest so he could beat her face into the floor like she’d done to him, but she struck out with a leg, only just missing his groin, then sent the heel of her palm straight into his solar plexus. Alec staggered back, fighting for breath.

In the blink of an eye, she was back on her feet. Then with a smug smile, she crouched and pulled a knife out of her boot.

“Come on,” Alec gasped, “that’s not very sporting.”

Apparently banter wasn’t her thing. She renewed her assault with gusto, swiping and slicing and thrusting, Alec blocking with elbows, wrists and feet. It was all he could do just to keep the blade away from his vital organs, and he hadn’t really realized he’d been moving backward until a burning floorboard groaned and gave under his foot. He jumped to the side just in time and rolled, aiming for the kitchen, but his progress was halted when she threw herself onto him, her elbow driving into his spine.

Alec almost couldn’t swallow the cry of pain that threatened to escape, because fuck, that hurt. Then she rolled him over and climbed on top of him, only this time instead of pummeling his face, she brought the knife down in a deadly arc, aiming for his chest. Alec got his hands up just in time, grasping her wrists, but it wasn’t quite enough to totally divert the blow. The blade plunged into his left shoulder to the hilt. He felt it scrape against bone and didn’t bother to hold back the agonized scream that tore itself out of his throat. He didn’t even know he could make that sound.

He got the instant replay though, when the bitch _twisted_ , rending flesh and forcing the knife impossibly deep. Then she ripped it out and prepared to do it all over again.

The ceiling above them groaned impressively, but she was so fixated on finishing Alec off that she didn’t even notice. The knife came down, blade flashing in the firelight. Alec didn’t block it. Instead he jerked his head as far to his right as it would go; the knife hit wood, not flesh, and with her weight now committed forward, Alec grabbed her hips and flipped her beneath him like he’d done with countless other women, just under much more pleasurable circumstances.

He dove off just as the ceiling came crashing down, landing on his stomach. Max shouted his name just before some hot, heavy thing cracked against the back of his skull, sending his vision spinning. Then everything went black.

**Day 53**

Alec’s hands were warm. And soft, way softer than they had any right to be, considering all the heavy lifting and manual labor he did around TC. Max traced the creases of his knuckles and the faint scars on the back with the pad of her thumb. She thought about how sometimes, when he was really frustrated, he would rake his hand through his hair like he didn’t care what it looked like. She thought about how confident his hands were, and how the only time she had ever seen them hesitate was that night on the roof, raw and vulnerable, when he had reached to push her sopping hair behind her ear. For an insane, fleeting moment, Max had thought he would kiss her, which surprised her, but not nearly as much as the disappointment she’d felt when he just walked away.

So, Max thought about Alec’s hands because it was honestly too frightening to think about anything else even remotely Alec related.

Like all the what-ifs clattering around in her head. What if he’d been hit by something heavier? What if Max hadn’t been able to get to him in time and he had died of smoke inhalation? What if that blade had hit him two inches to the right and severed his aorta and he had bled out in that stupid, grimy house before Max even knew what was going down? What if she were in the morgue in the basement, holding a cold, hard hand instead of a warm, soft one?

She also wasn’t even going to touch on how this sick, anxious knot wrapped around her insides had to this point in her life been reserved almost exclusively for Logan. It was helplessness, pure and vicious, and Max hated it. She hated it because she _knew_ that Alec would be all right. Katya, one of the medics, had informed her earlier that he was pretty banged up, but that she didn’t think it was anything an X-5 couldn’t handle. A blood transfusion, a few stitches and some rest, and he’d be right as rain, though the cracked ribs he’d received from the shower of debris that fell from the second floor would hurt like a bitch for a while.

So why couldn’t Max make herself let go of his hand?

There were footsteps in the hall, and Max willed them to pass. She really wasn’t in the mood for company. They stopped anyway.

“You’re a hard girl to get a hold of,” Logan said. He leant against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. He was trying really hard for casual, but Max could see the tension around his eyes. “I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“Sometimes a girl needs some peace,” she countered.

“That was quite an entrance you made the other day,” Logan continued, ignoring her venom. “It’s all over the news. You should probably scrap the van, though. A dashboard cam from one of the patrol cars got a clear shot of the license plates, so Sector Police will be looking for it.”

“Already done,” Max answered. Mole had been upset that he’d have to kiss another van goodbye, but Max knew it would be forgotten as soon as they got their hands on a replacement.

“You could have called,” Logan said quietly after a moment’s hesitation. “The police report said that three bodies were recovered. I thought – “

“Yeah, sorry,” Max interrupted. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

And good _Lord_ , had she been busy, because when it rained it fucking poured. In the two hours they were gone, they suffered a massive power surge. All of the computers crashed, leaving their servers free for the plundering during the thirty minutes it had taken Dix to get the firewalls back in place. A faulty transformer near the abandoned nuclear facility was blamed, but something about it didn’t gel with Max.

There was also a small uprising to crush, after Mole returned and told his own, extremely exaggerated version of events. At least two dozen of the more easily aroused transgenics in-house had been ready to storm the gates and take on half the city. If Joshua hadn’t been there to help calm them down, Max was fairly certain that she’d be somewhere in the middle of a full-blown battle in the streets of Seattle and not a quiet hospital room.

Calling Logan had honestly never been further from her mind.

“I can see that,” he said.

Max shot Logan a glare. Sometimes she still had trouble telling when he was being sarcastic or just plain mean, and she was already irritated. Besides, there were no smuggled goods to receive or incomings to extract today, and the thought of Alec waking up alone – _or not waking up at all_ ¬ - sat like a stone in her stomach.

Syl and Krit had both pitched in too, though they were mostly seeing that Alec’s responsibilities were fulfilled. It was not lost on Max that it took both of them to do in one day what Alec did all on his own. Without Max ever having asked. Or realized, for that matter.

“Well, I’m alive. Is that all?” she snapped. “Or did you take time out of your busy schedule to come all the way down here to tell me how to do my job?”

“Max-“

“What, Logan?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what _did_ you mean?”

Logan seemed to choke on his words for a moment before clearing his throat roughly. His gaze flicked to her hand, which was still holding Alec’s. For a moment, he almost looked envious.

“You care about him.”

The statement was so matter of fact and certain – surprised, sure, but certain – that Max found herself at a loss for words. She eyed Logan warily, not entirely positive she wanted to have this conversation. Not ever, and certainly not with him.

“Honestly,” he continued, “the way you two have been acting, I thought you were just, well, fuck buddies. I’m thinking there’s more between you than that.” Logan paused and scratched the back of his head. He looked embarrassed, like he’d said too much, and squinted one eye shut. He did that when he got uncomfortable. “To be frank, I’m not sure which I prefer.”

Max swallowed exactly four highly inappropriate responses. She had to remind herself that she had actually given him reason to believe that she was the kind of girl to break up with a fella and then go sleep with a guy she didn’t even like _the very same day._ Logan wasn’t trying to be a dick, and she didn’t have to take her stress out on him, like she used to do with Alec on the outside. Max didn’t miss the irony of _that_ role reversal.

“We have a… tempestuous relationship.” Well, if that wasn’t the truth, Max didn’t know what was.

Logan smirked. “I think all of your relationships are tempestuous.”

“Comedy Hour with Logan Cale. Buy your tickets in advance, save five dollars.”

Logan chuckled, and for a moment it felt like it was before; before the virus, before Manticore had stolen her life from her. Before all that stupid love shit got in the way, and they were just two people who could be in the same room with each other without one of them fleeing in an angst-induced fit. She missed that, because angst-induced fits were so not all they were cracked up to be.

The smile faded, and Logan gestured toward Alec with his head. “You could do worse,” he said softly.

Max looked at Alec, all battered and bruised and bandaged. “I know.”

The truth of the words was like a kick to the face, even if their ‘relationship’ was a sham.

Logan cocked his head to the side. “You look surprised.”

Max hastily schooled her expression into something more neutral. “Only to hear you admit it.”

“I don’t know,” Logan shrugged, “I think he’s proven he’s not a complete ass. He’s stuck around hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he has,” Max said softly. He’d done a hell of a lot more than just stick around. He’d gotten her back when she didn’t even know she’d needed it. Terminal City would have gone straight to hell if he hadn’t been there to spot the trees in her forest; Max was so big picture, she often forgot about the little things.

“Then I’m glad you have him.” He checked his watch. “Listen, I’ve got some things-“

“It’s cool,” Max said. “You’re a busy guy, saving the world, protecting the downtrodden.”

“Blah blah, woof woof.”

Max smiled. “Blah blah, woof woof.”

“See you around, Max. Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

Logan left with a crooked smile, and she watched him go, waiting for the sense of loss that usually accompanied his departure. Instead all she felt was something suspiciously similar to closure.

 

Alec fought hard to keep his body relaxed and his face still until well after Logan left. He kinda felt like a jerk for eavesdropping on their private conversation, but those two needed to talk. Alec was tired of seeing Max beat herself up over the way it all went down, and he wasn’t going to be the one to interrupt them.

When the sounds of Logan's footsteps faded at last, Alec let loose the groan he’d been holding in. _Everything_ hurt.

“Oh God,” he said. “If this is what a hangover feels like, then I’ve never been happier to have been grown in a lab.”

The look of sheer panic on Max’s face was priceless, especially when Alec flicked his eyes toward the now-vacant doorway. He felt her pulse quicken against his palm. Then he realized he could feel her pulse in the first place and looked down at his hand. Max’s right hand was curled around the flat of his hand; her thumb drew lazy, soothing circles - until he noticed. Goosebumps raced up Max’s arm under his scrutiny; he followed their progress with interest, then traced the curve of her neck with his eyes before finally looking at her. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes wide, and suddenly the moment was far more intimate than he had ever intended.

Alec swallowed hard, struggling to keep his expression unreadable before plastering a grin on his face. “I always knew you cared, Maxie. You know, deep down.”

Max’s blush deepened, but she somehow managed to keep her tone light. “Well, I couldn’t drag your sorry ass from a burning building to let you die in your sleep, now could I?”

“Excellent point. It’d just be bad form.” He smacked his free hand to his forehead and winced. Bad Idea. “Ah, shit. The kids - did everyone—?”

“They’re all fine, even Fixit.” Max assured him. She visibly relaxed, now that the conversation had strayed toward neutral ground. “Can’t say the same thing for the other guys, though. They lost three.”

“The chick that tried to fillet me?”

“Bought the farm.”

“Damn,” Alec said sarcastically. “I was really looking forward to round three.”

Max snorted. “I wouldn’t worry about that. They’re probably gunning for both of us now, considering you took out two of ‘em.”

“Did you bag Xena, Warrior Princess?”

“Nah, she slipped out while I was trying to climb though a burning building to rescue this guy I know who can’t seem to stay out of trouble. Syl finished off one of hers.”

“Good for her.” Alec paused, his chest suddenly feeling too small for his lungs. Max hadn’t just saved his life, she’d risked her own, and let the bad guy get away to do it. “I’m sure this guy you know is extremely grateful.”

“He better be,” Max replied, “because I swear he thinks it’s my full-time job.”

Alec squeezed her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles, a motion so tender and unguarded that it immediately put the deer-in-the-headlights look on Max’s face again. Alec just watched her, like if he looked hard enough he might be able to read her thoughts, because Max remained frustratingly difficult to translate. Alec expected it was because _she_ didn’t even know what she was thinking half the time. Her body language told him she was anxious, almost expectant, but confused, too, so chances were she didn’t have a clue what it was she was waiting for.

Alec took a deep breath and went out on a limb. He had to know if she’d meant what she said to Logan, or if she had only told her old flame what she needed to keep him at a distance.

“Maybe one day you’ll let him make it up to you.”

Abruptly, Max stood and finally released Alec’s hand. She pointedly avoided looking him in the eye, and Alec was actually grateful. He knew the rejection kicking him in the gut would be written all over his face too, and, well, Max didn’t need to know that.

“Katya will kill me if I don’t tell her you’re up,” Max said lamely, already walking toward the door.

“Max—“ he said, trying to interrupt her before she bolted like a spooked horse.

“And I’ve got some… stuff to do – “  
__

_“Max.”_

“But I think Ralph and Bullett were planning to come visit later, so—“

“Stay.”

“ _I can’t,_ ” Max said, drawing a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why not?” Alec said quietly.

“Get some rest, Alec,” she said, offering a sad half-smile.

Then she was gone, and Alec was left to replay the whole conversation over and over again, trying to make some sense of it. Like why any of it bothered him, or why he even asked her to stay in the first place. It wasn’t like he had a thing for Max. That would be ridiculous.

**Day 59**

“Boo, you stare at that boy any harder, he gonna burst into flames.”

It had taken longer than Max had hoped, but with the help of Logan and the S1-W, they were able to secure a handful of entrances into Terminal City from Seattle. All but one of them were subterranean, and most were so intricately laid that a guide was required, but at least they could get supplies and incoming transgenics to safety. After Max’s last conversation with Logan, Cindy and Sketchy had both started running errands into TC, so she saw them each at least once a week. They couldn’t stay for long, due to the high levels of radiation, but Max was inexpressibly grateful for every minute with her friends that she got.

Startled by Cindy’s voice, Max jerked her gaze away from Alec, who was on the other side of the warehouse overseeing the arsenal inventory. Katya hadn’t been able to get him to stay in bed any longer, and Max found she had a hard time not watching his every move. To make sure he was okay. It had nothing to do with the last conversation they’d had. Or the conversation they _hadn’t_ had.

She looked at Original Cindy, then anxiously around the room.

“Fire? Where?” Max took a moment to actually process what Cindy had said, then shrugged and looked down at the clipboard in her hand, trying for nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cindy arched a sculpted brow and gave Max her best Yeah Right, Whatever Look. “Mh-hm. Well, you let me know when your boy turns transparent so I can see whatever it is you are starin’ at.”

With a huff of frustration, Max tossed the clipboard down onto the crate of canned fruit Cindy had helped smuggle in. “That’s just it, though: He isn’t.”

“Isn’t what?”

“Transparent,” Max replied, looking Cindy in the eye. “I thought I had him pegged, but he keeps throwin’ me curve balls, ya know? I always thought he was this shallow, opportunistic chauvinist. But now…”

“Now you’ve seen his black little heart isn’t quite as black or shriveled as you thought, and it’s thrown you for a loop.”

“Pretty much.”

Cindy sighed and threw an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Baby girl, if life has taught Original Cindy one thing, it’s that no one is ever what we think they are. They show us who they want to be because it keeps them safe. Sometimes we just gotta let ‘em know they can show us what’s underneath.”

“That was deep.”

“Just keepin’ it real, boo.”

The only problem with that was Max was pretty sure Alec had already tried to show her, and she’d fled in terror. Because she was clever like that.

 

Max needed time to wrap her head around things, in general, and Alec got that. Give her imminent crisis or impending doom and she could usually cobble together some kind of plan inside of three minutes. Sure, those plans were usually utterly insane, but even then she pulled it off with guts and strength of will alone.

Matters of the heart were another story. Normally watching her agonize for days over how to deal with a particular situation would drive Alec to force her hand, to make up her mind, but he couldn’t exactly do that this time. Not when he was obviously the root of her turmoil. He seriously regretted saying what he had in his hospital room. It had been impulsive, and way too much of a chick flick moment to have possibly gone well.

So, not only had he probably ruined the strange, tenuous friendship he and Max had, but he didn’t even know why he had done it. He had wanted to test the motives behind what Max said to Logan, but to what end? What had he really hoped to accomplish? He didn’t even know what he wanted, for Christ’s sake, and that in and of itself was a little disconcerting. Alec _always_ knew what he wanted.

On top of that, Max had become the Queen of Mixed Signals. Alec was seriously considering making her a crown and scepter, just to make it official. She followed him around all day, not hovering, but always within earshot – until he spoke to her directly. Very suddenly she had somewhere else to be. She was also amusingly distracted when she wasn’t, you know, boring holes through Alec’s back with her eyes. It was a good thing Manticore hadn’t given her laser vision.

Then there was the touching. Whenever she got close enough to make contact, she did. Feather-light touches so casual, Alec wasn’t even sure she knew she was doing it. He rather wished he could be so lucky, because each and every caress was like a jolt of electricity against his skin, threatening to drive him to distraction.

What was weird though, was now that Alec was thinking about it he realized that Max almost never touched anyone, ever. It was like she was punishing herself for not being able to touch Logan by avoiding human contact all together, unless she was beating someone’s ass. But then Alec had woken up with her hand all wrapped up in his, and now she couldn’t seem to _stop_ touching. Like she was trying to catch up as quickly as possible.

Alec slammed a crate of ammo onto the shelf with slightly more force than necessary, and wrote down the amount on his clipboard.

“Easy,” Krit said, entering their make-shift arsenal. Alec hadn’t heard his approach, proof how unfocused Max’s behavior was making him. “What did the box ever do to you?”

Alec snorted and stepped to the next crate, where he started counting the contents. Not that he noticed what they were, because he could feel Max’s eyes on him again. He was seriously tempted to go give her a good shake and demand to know what the fuck she was playing at. First she literally ran away from him, then she practically stalked him.

Krit leant against the shelving next to Alec, close enough he could see Alec’s facial expressions. Alec was sensing a pattern.

“What is it with you oh-niners?” he snapped. “They tweak a chromosome in your cocktail that makes you stare at people until they go mad? An excellent interrogation technique, but seriously, what gives?”

“What’s going on with you and Max?” Krit asked, totally ignoring Alec’s outburst. “She’s been awfully… affectionate lately.”

Aggravating as hell was more like it, in Alec’s opinion.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he said instead.

“You don’t think she’s, you know—“

Alec shot Krit a sideways glance, and was infinitely amused to see a little pink staining his cheeks. “What?”

“Going in heat.”’

“I doubt it,” Alec replied. “Have you ever come across a female X-5 in heat?” Krit shook his head. “This ain’t it. Trust me.”

Krit arched an eyebrow. “You and Max?”

_I wish._

Alec froze; there was no possible way his brain just allowed that thought to even exist, let alone process. With difficulty, he resisted the urge to face-palm. Madness, it was. Absolute madness.

Quickly, he forced his body to relax, and painted a smug grin on his face. “Nah, not Maxie, but man was she a handful.”

Krit laughed and shook his head. “You’re something else, man. Seriously though, whatever’s going on between you and my sister, hug it out, or whatever it is you guys do, because she’s going to drive us all crazy.”

“You and me both,” Alec said to the empty room.

**Day 65**

“Your couch is way more comfortable than mine,” Max mumbled into the cushion.

Syl turned the page of the book she was reading and took a sip of water from the glass on the table. “Max, that is your couch. I took it three days ago.”

Max scowled, but didn’t move. “What?”

“Seriously, when was the last time you were even at your place? Better yet, when was the last time you _slept_? You look like hell, chica.”

Max knew for a fact that she hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes together since the night Alec had almost died, but she’d eat her boot before admitting it, even to Syl. “I showered this morning,” she replied petulantly.

Syl set her book down, her brow creased with concern. “And you didn’t notice the couch was missing? Come on, Max, what’s going on?”

Max tried to look innocent, but it was hard with her face mashed into the sofa. God, she was so exhausted. “What do you mean?”

Syl sighed heavily and rubbed her forehead, like Max had spontaneously given her a headache. “You’re kidding right?” She paused, waiting for Max to reply, but was met with silence. “ _Alec_.”

Max went rigid. “What about him?”

“Jesus,” Syl muttered, standing. She crossed the room and sat on the coffee table right in front of Max’s face.

“Is that my coffee table, too?”

“As soon as you need a table to set coffee on, you can have it back,” Syl responded impatiently. “What happened with you two? Ever since we picked up those kids in Sector Three you’ve been… out of it. One day you guys were normal, and then all of a sudden you’re Space Cadet Number One, and he’s stomping around like someone pissed in his Cheerios. And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, because even Krit has noticed, and he’s about as in-tune with the female psyche as a hammer.”

Max really didn’t want to talk about this, but it was obvious that Syl wasn’t going to let it lie. She pushed herself up and flopped against the back of the couch, totally resigned.

“Shit got a little… intense the other day.”

“And?”

“And I backed it up,” Max said with a shrug.

“You know, chica, for being so clever, you can really be pretty thick sometimes.”

Max glared. “It’s a bad idea. We work together.”

Syl scoffed. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“Yeah?” Max said defiantly. “How’s that?”

“Like you’re something he knows he’ll never have.”  
__

_Maybe one day you’ll let him make it up to you._

“You’re wrong.”

“Whatever,” Syl said tiredly. “But you need to deal with this. For real. Preferably before you run yourself into the ground.”

“There’s nothing do deal with,” Max insisted. “Nothing happened, nothing is going to happen. I don’t see what you’re so worked up about.”

“If nothing happened, then why are you all bent out of shape? Would it really be that horrible to just let him in?”

“Maybe,” Max snapped. “Alec uses people, Syl. He’s always looking for what he can get out of it, and… and I won’t be another notch on his bedpost.”

“So you’ll trust him to keep safe the only place on the west coast that we’re even remotely protected, but not your heart. I don’t know if that’s hypocritical or just sad. From what you’ve told me, he’s had your back since day one. Even when you hated him.”

“I’ve been cleaning up his messes since day one, you mean.”

“And he’s helped clean up yours.” Syl stood and set her hands on her hips. “I think you need to take a good, hard look at yourself, then figure out why you’re really so against the idea of there being something real between you.” Dramatically, she threw her hands in the air and looked at the ceiling. “And for the love of God, _talk to him.”_  


Alec left his door open, because closing it provided him with only the illusion of privacy. He had learned the hard way very early in his stay at Terminal City that his room was public space, and had three broken doors to prove it. He’d also learned it was much easier, no matter how irritated he was by the intrusion, to settle the dispute and send them on their way. Sometimes he felt like he was living with a bunch of really big kids in Halloween costumes. That also had guns and nicotine addictions.

It was hard at first. He’d had a pretty sweet place in Seattle, with a television and big rooms and doors that didn’t have squabbling transgenics busting in at all hours. Unless you counted Max, which Alec didn’t. Still, it was better than the eight-by-six cell with a cot he’d had at Manticore, so he wasn’t going to complain.

Needless to say, Alec was somewhat frustrated when he heard a door slam open, boots stomping down the hallway and a female voice shouting. So much for catching some shut-eye.

“You can pitch a fit if it makes you feel better, but you know I’m right!”

“Stay out of it, Syl.”

That was definitely Max. Alec’s ears were proven correct when she stormed past his door, looking all kinds of pissed off. Alec knew from experience that she only ever got that that angry when someone called her on her shit.

Alec took a deep breath and without thinking about what he may be getting himself into, popped his head out the door.

“Max?”

“What?”Max demanded, spinning around on her heel. She looked like she’d like to be able to spit fire just then. When she realized who it was she was shouting at, her expression faded to something more careful, though definitely still annoyed.

Alec put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was about to bite off more than he could chew. “Got a minute?”

“Yes!” Syl called down the corridor. “She has several. Take as many as you like!”

Max glared at her sister over Alec’s shoulder, then shoved past Alec and entered his room like she owned the place. Max did that everywhere, so it wasn’t really surprising.

“Fine.”

Alec stared, not sure how to begin. Max folded her arms across her chest impatiently.

“What happened the other day, in my hospital room?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who got all sentimental.”

“I’m not the one who panicked and fled, so don’t act like it meant nothing,” Alec countered.

“It didn’t.”

“Yeah? Then why were you even there? There are a dozen ways you could have kept tabs on me, and you chose to sit at my bedside. _Holding my hand.”_

Max faltered. “I was worried about you.”

“And the conversation you had with Logan?” Max’s eyes widened. “Yes, I heard pretty much all of it,” Alec continued dismissively. “Was it all a bunch of lies?”

“I told him what I needed to. Don’t read into it.”

Alec’s stomach sank. “So all those things you said to me on the roof, were you just saying what you thought was necessary, too? Did you mean any of it?”

Max’s expression suddenly became fierce. “All of it.”

“Okay, I see how it is: I’m good, just not good enough to meet your high standards, is that it? Shall I go find a wheelchair? Or, I know! Maybe I’ll inject myself with a genetically engineered retro-virus so we can never touch. Would that even the playing field?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it isn’t is it? But that way you could pine away from a distance singing Woe Is Me instead of _actually having something_. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Max was beginning to get that panicked look in her eye again, which usually ended with her fleeing the scene.

“What do you _want_?” He tried not to shout, he really did, but she’d wriggled her way under his skin, and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get her out.

Max’s eyes became impossibly huge, and she actually took a step backward, like the question terrified her. Or maybe the answer. Another step, and her back was against the wall.

“I—“ she stuttered, “I don’t know.”

Alec forced himself to take a few deep breaths. This was on its way to being out of control, and he hadn’t meant to scare her off. He just wanted answers, because she was going to drive him insane. His eyes never left hers though, effectively gluing her to the spot. Cautiously, he reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.

“Jesus, Max,” he said softly. “What the hell are you so afraid of?”

“ _Having something_ ,” Max whispered harshly. She roughly batted his hand away, trying to cover up the broken look on her face with aggression. “Haven’t you noticed that everything I touch goes to shit? If you don’t have something, you can’t lose it, and I am so done with losing things.”

“So you’re prepared to live the rest of your life alone and miserable and terrified of something that may just as likely turn out to be… beautiful as ugly and broken?”

Max lifted her chin defiantly. God, she was so stubborn.

Alec shook his head in disbelief. “Well, I’m not.”

Alec pressed his lips to hers, softly but insistently. He tried to push the whole messy jumble of emotions crashing through him into this one charged moment, determined to make her understand what he felt, even if he didn’t because he knew that this right now was what they’d been working toward for weeks. Since they’d known each other, even. All the drama, the harsh words and the tender moments mixed in had led to this kiss, and he’d be damned if she didn’t get it, too.

Stunned, Max went completely rigid for what seemed like an eternity. Then she kissed him back. It was little more than a tentative, uncertain brushing of her lips against his, but it was better than the outright rejection he’d expected.

Emboldened by her response, Alec deepened the kiss, twining his finger though silky soft hair and gently sucking on her full bottom lip. Max sighed, opening her mouth to him, and he slipped his tongue inside. She was sweet, like honey, and for a moment Alec totally lost himself in the novelty of kissing Max.

She ran her hands up his chest, and Alec’s pulse quickened, her touch setting all sorts of synapses firing. Then she pushed him away, breaking the kiss and dropping Alec’s heart from its place in his chest to somewhere around his knees. He should have known it was too good to be true.

Max stared at him, her breathing ragged and her lips swollen. She was searching his face for something.

“Alec,” she said, her voice uneven, “what—“

Alec stepped back and pulled a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know—“

Suddenly there was the sound of arguing in the hall, and Alec held his breath, willing whomever it was to work out their own shit out tonight because he was having a hard enough time dealing with his own.

“Alec,” Mole’s harsh voice demanded from behind him. “This arrogant Arctic jackass stole my cigars. Again.”

“I did not, you scaly moron. Tell him I’ve been up at the plant all day hauling in sheet metal, won’t you?”

Alec forced himself to breathe and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to block it all out. All of it.

“Mole,” he ground out, “did you smoke them all?”

Alec almost didn’t hear the whisper of fabric over Mole’s outraged response, and when he lowered his hands, Max was gone. He slammed the door.

“Fuck.”

 

Max’s ceiling mocked her, and her bed was bigger, somehow emptier than she ever remembered it being. She hadn’t really expected to get any sleep, but was hardly in the mood for company. Not that the silence and solitude brought her any peace, either. All she could see was the shattered look on Alec’s face when she pushed him away. She chewed her lips in an effort to erase the feel of his on them, to forget how she’d kissed him back, and how right it had felt.

_Jesus, Max, what the hell are you so afraid of?_

His words mocked her, too.

 _Having something_. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Sometimes it seemed like everything Max tried to hold on to was made of sand. The harder she tried to keep it, the faster it slipped through her fingers: her old life in Seattle when she was just a bike messenger by day and a cat burglar by night, Ben, Tinga, Brin, Zack – twice. Logan. She didn’t even have her motorcycle anymore.

All of it was her fault. She had been unable to save them, Ben from himself, Tinga and Brin from Manticore, Zack from an apparent destiny to lose himself for her sake. Her love for Logan was the only thing that had kept her strong through Manticore’s attempt to reindoctrinate her, and they’d used it against her, nearly costing Logan his life more than once.

So, it wasn’t just the having and losing that burned, but knowing that it was her short-comings that caused it. Her mistakes. When the sand had slipped away, all Max had to show for it was a handful of rocky regrets that she couldn’t seem to let go of, no matter how badly she wanted to. She wasn’t sure she could deal with anymore regrets.

The problem was Max didn’t know if letting Alec get close would be the mistake, or if shutting him out would be. Alec wasn’t all bad, but he confused her, and Max had a hard time trusting what she couldn’t understand. He was such a smart ass, always pushing her buttons, but then sometimes he’d look at her and the room would freeze for a moment. _Like he knew she was something he’d never have._

Maybe Cindy was right, about people wearing masks to keep them safe. Maybe Alec kept trying to show her what was underneath; she just kept running from it. Maybe that was her mistake.

Max believed in facing her fears head-on. She thought Alec might just be worth the risk.

 

Terminal City looked like one of Joshua’s watercolors as she crossed it, all indistinct shapes, blurred lines, and smeared shades of blue, black and violet. Sometimes when she walked the streets at night she felt like an interloper. Or the Final Girl in a Zombie horror flick. And to think she called this place home.

Halfway to Alec’s building a figure stepped from around the corner of an old office unit. He was all long limbs and shadow. Even his face seemed to swallow the minimal ambient light. He raised a gun in surprise. Then he lowered it.

“Max, I didn’t hear you.”

“Raif. I didn’t see you. Imagine that.”

He grinned, a flash of white in the darkness. “Can’t sleep?”

“No rest for the wicked.” She paused. “You seen Alec?”

Raif tilted his head so slightly Max almost didn’t catch it and studied her. She was careful to keep her face neutral, remembering that Raif’s night vision was as clear and sharp as hers was during the day. Sometimes she really hated living with other transgenics. They were a crafty lot, always trying to read between the lines, looking for a weakness. Max wasn’t even sure what she was hoping to accomplish by going to Alec, and she didn’t want Raif reading too much into it. She shouldn’t have even asked.

“Not since this morning,” he replied after a moment. “But I heard at Command that he was taking some… personal time tonight, and not to bother him.”

“Right. Thanks. As you were.”

Raif nodded respectfully, and retreated back into the shadows. Max thought dude was kind of odd, personally, but was glad he was head of night patrols. Any ordinaries ran into him in a dark alley, they’d piss their pants before making a move.

Max encountered no one else, but when she finally reached Alec’s door she stood frozen, utterly indecisive. She raised her hand to knock, but didn’t. Max never knocked, and even if she did he’d probably just ignore her. The “GO AWAY” scrawled in permanent marker across Alec’s door wasn’t exactly an invitation, either.

But this was important. Max felt like an ass for leaving things the way she had, when he had put himself so far out on that limb, and she knew that if she didn’t do it now she’d lose her nerve and it would be one more item on the list of things They Don’t Talk About. She realized that she didn’t want that, even if she did piss him off by ignoring the warning on the door.

The door swung open with a faint whine, but Max remained in the doorway. Alec was sprawled across his bed on his stomach facing away from the door. She could tell he was awake by the measure of his breath, and was proven correct when he heaved a great sigh.

“What is it about the concept of a closed door that is so hard to grasp? _Piss off.”_

Max hesitated for a fraction of a second. This was her last chance to back out.

“May I come in?”

Alec’s entire body went rigid at the sound of her voice. Stiffly, he reached up and flicked on the lamp next to the bed and flipped over.

“Max.”

“Hey,” she said, offering a tentative smile.

Alec swallowed and gestured for her to enter. She did, closing the door behind her.

“What’s up?”

The room seemed much smaller now than it had earlier, yet the distance between her and Alec felt insurmountable. Max faltered for a moment, not quite sure what to do with herself. It wasn’t something she was used to, because she had always been of the mind that doing something was better than doing nothing at all. She rather hated the feeling.

Alec furrowed his brow, sensing her discomfort, and pushed himself upright. He let his hand rest on the mattress. Max took the gesture as an invitation and sat on the edge, twisting her torso to face him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’ve been thinking,” she replied. “Maybe you were right.”

“Why do I get the feeling we’ve had this conversation before?”

Max threw him a sideways glare, but even she knew there was no real heat behind it. “About me being afraid.”

Alec said nothing, but reached out and grasped her hand. Max hadn’t even realized she’d been nervously picking imaginary lint from his blanket. His hands were still so soft, and the contact distracted her momentarily. Max felt her façade crumble as though it had been a physical thing.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore.”

She leant over and kissed him. Her lips brushed over his, and the tingling sensation Max had spent most of the night trying to forget came rushing back full-force, sending little bolts of electricity all the way down to her toes. Alec didn’t need to be told twice to kiss her back, and he didn’t hesitate to open up to her when she flicked her tongue across his bottom lip, begging entrance. He tasted like whiskey and Alec, and Max decided that she could spend quite a lot of time learning the contours of his mouth, memorizing each and every response, no matter how minute.

Still, she felt he was holding back. He tasted her gingerly, like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to, and he had yet to touch her, like maybe doing so would shatter the illusion. Or maybe it was because every time he put himself out there, she pushed him away.

Well, Max had had quite enough of _that_.

Wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, she deepened the kiss, stealing passion from the pool of heat already forming in her stomach. He didn’t resist when she forced him gently onto his back and crawled on top of him. That was all the invitation Alec needed; his hands were suddenly everywhere at once, sliding up her thighs, caressing her sides, teasing the bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt.

Finally, they settled on Max’s hips with a grip so hard she’d probably bruise. Alec pulled her down roughly, thrusting his hips to meet her half way and grinding his erection against her core. Max gasped into Alec’s mouth, and he did it once more, just to torment her.

They definitely had too many clothes on.

Breaking away, Max straightened, making sure to roll her hips as achingly slowly as possible. Alec didn’t even bother to try to hold back a groan, and strong fingers gripped even more tightly, digging into her flesh.

“Jesus, Max,” he said breathlessly.

Max smiled wickedly and pulled her shirt over her head. Lightning quick, Alec flipped them, pinning her beneath him before the discarded garment even hit the floor. Deft fingers unhooked her bra; it joined the shirt, leaving Max open to his hungry gaze. He kissed her again, hot and hard and open-mouthed, like he was trying to press her into the mattress and devour her simultaneously.

Alec’s lips were like fiery brands as they traced the curve of her neck, claiming every inch they touched. Max dug her fingers into his hair while he had his wicked way with her, her body undulating against his of its own accord. Impatient fingers sought the hem of his shirt and jerked it up over Alec’s head. A happy sigh escaped Max’s lips feeling his skin against hers. Her hands wandered, greedily exploring the hard planes and firm muscle of his back. It was smooth and scorching hot, and Max couldn’t get enough.

Then Alec took a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with flicks of his tongue and nips of his teeth, and Max arched off the bed, her entire existence narrowed to one tiny bit of pebbled flesh. He gave the other the same torturous treatment until Max was little more than a quivering, needy mess.

“You know we’re probably both going to regret this in the morning,” Max said between deep, greedy breaths. Alec was playing her body as expertly as he played the piano, somehow managing to find all her sensitive spots, all the right keys to stroke. Like he already knew.

“No, we won’t,” Alec said, dragging moist lips down the center of her stomach toward her navel. He unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly before placing a soft, lingering kiss just above her panties.

“How do you know?” Max demanded, her voice more raw than she’d intended.

“I don’t,” Alec replied, looking up. His eyes were so dark Max almost couldn’t see any green. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

Max looked him in the eye and lifted her hips. Alec smiled and hooked his fingers around both her jeans and panties and tugged them down her legs. There was an awkward moment where they both forgot she still had boots on, and Max laughed as Alec struggled to remove the offending articles.

Alec crowed triumphantly, then silenced her with a kiss, this one languid and searching with more heat than force. Max went willingly with the change of pace, letting Alec lead. For once in her life, she was completely okay with that.

Alec knelt between Max’s legs, and she wasted no time shoving his boxers down to his knees. Alec’s sigh of relief became a strangled moan when Max wrapped her hand around his hard length and stroked him firmly.

“Fuck,” he breathed into her neck.

“Mmm,” Max said. “Are you waiting for an invitation or should I draw you a— _oh._ ”

Alec thrust inside in one smooth motion, filling her so completely she forgot how to breathe and effectively killing conscious thought.

“Map,” she finished, exhaling harshly.

“What?” Alec said, chuckling smugly. Then Max clenched around him, and the sound died in his throat.

With a growl, Alec wrapped Max’s legs around his waist, grabbed her hips and _pushed_ , driving himself impossibly deep. Max swore she could feel him all the way up in her chest, squeezing her lungs tight and making her heart beat an arrhythmic staccato against her ribcage.

Then he did it again. He moved with purpose, each thrust hitting a different point inside her until it was all she could do just keep pace with him. The ball of heat in her gut spread inexorably outward, pushing her closer and closer to the edge until she was so close it almost hurt.

“Alec, I… I need – “

Alec leaned forward, his body taught as a bowstring and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Anything, Maxie.”

“ _More.”_

Alec obeyed, slamming into her with such wild abandon that Max didn’t even bother trying to keep up. With one hand braced on the wall above her head and the other clutching at Alec’s sweat-slicked shoulder, Max let him fuck her right into the mattress.

She didn’t last long after that. Tiny flutters soon became blinding spasms as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy.

“Oh God, Alec I’m – “

“I know.”

Then he brought a thumb and forefinger to her clit and pinched. Max crashed with a strangled cry, coming so hard the only thing she could feel was Alec’s cock inside and the fire racing through her veins. His mouth found hers, swallowing the sound.

He wrapped his arms around her, pressing their bodies flush together. Somehow Max managed to return the embrace, and when Alec came moments later, she felt it with her entire being. She wished she could have seen his face though. She bet he was beautiful.

They collapsed in a sweaty, sticky heap of limbs and blankets, and Super Soldier or not, Max swore it took a full twenty minutes for her breathing to return to normal.

Alec rolled off and dragged a hand through his hair. Max watched him from the corner of her eye.

“Stay,” he said at last.

Max rolled toward him, throwing an arm over his chest and tucking her head beneath his chin. She could hear his heartbeat, and kissed his chest.

“I don’t think you could get me out of this bed if you wanted to.”

Alec didn’t respond, but she could tell he was smiling.

 

There was a phone ringing, somewhere, but the warm weight pressed tightly against her back was enough to discourage any thought she might have had to find it. Except for the part where it _didn’t stop_. Three times it rang through, and when the fourth started, Max moaned and lurched forward, her hand blindly searching for the offending electronic device.

“Don’t, Maxie,” Alec mumbled, trying to pull her back. “Come back to sleep.”

Max found the phone and flipped it open. “Whaddayafrigginwant?” she demanded. “ _I was sleeping.”_

There was a long pause on the other end, and Max hoped they had hung up.

“Max?” said a confused voice. “What are you doing with Alec’s phone?”

Max’s eyes flew wide, and words failed her. The first thing she was doing when she got out of bed was changing her ringtone, so it wasn’t the exact same one as Alec’s, because _shit_.

“Just hang up. Let someone else deal with it,” Alec said, placing feather-light kisses on the back of her neck.

“Was that--? Oh.” The voice cleared its throat. “Never mind. Sorry I woke you.”

When the line went dead, Max dropped the phone back on the floor and rolled over to face Alec. He met her with a lazy kiss before dropping his head back down onto his pillow.

“I hope you weren’t planning on keeping this our dirty little secret, because I’m pretty sure the cat’s out of the bag. Everyone in TC will know by dinner time.”

Alec laughed, and pulled her closer. “Who cares?”

**Day 72**

Honestly, Max couldn’t wait until they had the supplies to make the secret tunnels leading out of TC more passable, because the one she was in now sucked. Especially while trying to move five crates of fresh fruit and a couple of boxes of medical supplies. They had the smuggled goods on hand-made pushcarts with wheels and handles, but when the sewer floor was as broken and uneven as it was, the going was slow regardless.

On top of that their supplier had nearly chickened out and showed an hour late, and then they had to dodge a couple of overly curious citizens – no mean feat, considering their load.

Luckily, she’d brought plenty of back-up. Leah and Jared had both helped out when Max and Logan had been clearing the tunnel they were currently in, and knew it like the backs of their hands. Brutus, a transgenic of few words who looked his name, had been gifted with super strength, even by Manticore standards. He was spectacularly tall, and had biceps of greater circumference than Max’s thighs. Max didn’t think they would have been able to move the product without him.

There was also the intimidation factor, so when the ordinaries got too close, Brutus gladly volunteered to run them off.

“About four hundred more yards,” Leah supplied as they rounded a bend.

Brutus grunted.

Max frowned. They should have passed a sentry by now. The tunnel was secure, sure, but it would be stupid to leave it unguarded.

They hadn’t gone another ten feet when Max put her hand up, signaling for a halt. She held her breath, her body taut as a bow as she strained to hear what had sent her spidey senses a-tinglin’. Then she heard it: short pops in rapid succession. Her stomach tightened.

“Was that gunfire?” Jared whispered.

“Something’s wrong,” Max said. “Brutus, with me. You two stay and guard the supplies. I’ll send someone for you when the coast is clear.”

The short run through the last leg of tunnel was longer than it had ever felt. The noises reverberating around them were becoming clearer, more defined. Definitely gunfire. The faint odor of smoke was permeating the passageway, too, doing nothing to ease the tension in Max’s gut.

When Max and Brutus reached the end, they found it barred, a length of chain-link fence bolted across the mouth of the tunnel.

“Well, that’s not a good sign,” Brutus commented.

“Ya think?” Max countered. She jerked her head toward the gate. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replied, his angular face and heavy brow pulling upward into what Max assumed was a smile.

Brutus approached the fence and shook it, testing its strength. Then he promptly ripped it off its frame. Max stepped lithely out of the way as he discarded the fence, and entered Terminal City.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to tell where the trouble was. The evening sky was black and orange over the southern end of the western perimeter, smoke and flame visible even from the complete opposite side of the compound. Terminal City was burning.

Bolting through the streets, they encountered no one until they reached the hospital, which was heavily guarded. Max counted eight, at least, and there were rifle muzzles protruding from second- and third-floor windows. A small group of transgenics were making their way toward the main entrance, each of them carrying a body.

Max kept running, the only thought in her head that she had to find Alec. If anyone knew what happened, it would be him.

The air became warmer after that. Black smoke billowed into the street up ahead, thick and acrid. Max skidded to a halt as she rounded the corner. Brutus ran into her, nearly bowling her over, though neither really noticed.

“Whoa,” Brutus breathed.

Max was inclined to agree. She counted three buildings on fire, with the blaze dangerously close to spreading to a fourth, which just happened to be an apartment building they’d been using. Where the fence used to be at the end of the street was what looked like an armor-plated school bus. Spent shell casings crunched under her boots. Transgenics were everywhere, though most of them were attempting to contain the blaze.

Then she spotted Alec in the middle of it all, a rifle strapped across his back, barking out orders like the best of Drill Sergeants. Max hadn’t realized how worried she had been about him until she laid eyes on him, alive and apparently unharmed.

“Alec!”

Alec whipped around at the sound of his name. His face flooded with relief at the sight of her, filling Max with a strange, slightly gooey feeling she didn’t care to examine. Ever.

They jogged toward each other, closing the distance rapidly. Alec clasped a strong hand on her shoulder then pulled her into a brief one-armed embrace. Max hugged him back.

“Max,” he greeted, pulling back. “You’re okay. We had to seal the tunnel; I couldn’t spare the men to guard it.”

“It’s fine,” Max said impatiently. “What the _hell happened?_ And why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried,” Alec said, sounding a bit defensive. “You didn’t answer.”

“No, you didn’t. I would have-“ Max cut herself off mid-sentence as a quick pat-down of all her pockets turned up zero cell phones. “It’s gone.”

Alec’s expression was calculating, like he was trying to solve a puzzle and maybe he was missing some of the pieces. Then he waved her off.

“You’re here now; we’ll worry about it later. A group of ordinaries drove a bus through the perimeter. Raif said he arrived on scene in under a minute, but by the time Command was alerted, the damage had already been done. We ran most of them off, but a few made it into the city. I sent Raif out with scouts looking for them, but most of ours are trying to keep the rest of the city from going up.”

“Have you evacuated?”

“Yeah, anyone not here is at the hospital helping the wounded or watching the kids. There’s a couple at Command, too, guarding the armory. Where are Jared and Leah?”

“In the tunnel with the goods.”

Max was about to ask what he was doing to control the fire, when Mole ran up to them. For a guy who was constantly on edge, he looked remarkably calm, if not a bit sooty. He glanced at Max.

“Welcome to the party. Refreshments are in the back.” He turned to Alec. “The first building is about to collapse. If it falls in the street, we won’t be able to access the others without being barbequed. And we’re pretty much out of water. If we don’t do something drastic _right now_ we’re going to lose two whole blocks, maybe more if the wind changes.”

Max pretended she wasn’t annoyed by the fact that she’d pretty much been dismissed from the conversation. She’d deal with that later. What she really wanted to know was why the Fire Department hadn’t sent anyone to respond to the fire. Okay, so most people wanted to wipe the residents of Terminal City off the face of the planet, but they had to know that the fire could spread to the rest of the city. What they needed was—

“A fire truck.”

“Huh?” said Alec.

“We need a fire truck. There’s a station about two blocks from here. If we can get the bus out of the way, we can drive it straight into the city, and there’re fire hydrants freaking everywhere in Seattle.” Max turned to Mole. “Get about ten guys – Brutus, go with them – arm up, and bring us back an engine.”

Mole looked at Alec.

No, Mole looked _to_ Alec.

Max’s prior annoyance fled in terror of the outrage rushing through her veins.

Alec froze, knowing what just happened. He kept his face neutral, though, which was more than Max could say.

“What, did you fall off the short bus? Move it!” Mole hesitated for just another fraction of a second. “What the hell are you waiting for?”

Brutus moved first, breaking the spell and dragging Mole off with him. “Let’s go, Lizard Boy.”

“Who you calling Lizard Boy, you over-grown Neanderthal?” Mole snarled, shaking his arm free of Brutus’ grasp.

Brutus practically growled, and Mole took a rather large step to the side, but followed nonetheless.

The exchange was lost on Max; she was so focused on Alec. He was tense, expecting an outburst, but his eyes were shuttered and guarded. She kind of wanted to punch him, just to get a reaction.

“Take three or four, and go get Jared and Leah,” Max said tightly. “Reseal the entrance. Once the supplies are secure, contact Raif and get a report. I need to know what kind of damage those punks wreaked. I’ve got this covered.”

Alec smirked. “Sure thing, Maxie.”

As Max watched him go, she expected to feel anger. Instead all she felt was an inexplicable sense of loss and something strange and cold in her chest, like a lead weight.

It wasn’t until later that she realized what she felt was betrayal.

 

By the time Alec finally dragged himself to his apartment, the sky was already beginning to lighten. An entire night of doing whatever needed doing _anywhere Max wasn’t_ , on top of the post adrenaline rush crash had him so bone-weary he just wanted to collapse. Apparently, even super soldiers needed to reboot occasionally.

There were a whole lot of things he wanted to do when he opened his door and saw Max lounging on his bed that required way more energy than he possessed, so Alec settled for sagging against the door frame and scrubbing his face with a soot-covered hand. He had a pretty good idea what this was about.

“You know you’re welcome in my bed whenever you like, Maxie, but I’m really not up for holding your hand while you sort out your insecurities.”

Max glared and was on her feet in one graceful move. She didn’t look half as exhausted as Alec felt, and he kind of hated her for it.

“Insecurities?” she queried, tilting her head to the side. She always did that when she was about to get all bitchy on him. “Is that what you call what happened tonight?”

“No, I call that disrespect. Insecure is just what it’s made you.”

“So being concerned that someone I thought I could trust is stabbing me in the back makes me a whiny little bitch then, huh? Forgive me my inadequacies.”

Alec’s anger flared. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m trying to snake Terminal City out from under you? Jesus, Max. Newsflash: I don’t want it.”

“That’s too bad, really, because from what I’ve seen tonight you’ve already got it. And not just from Mole. All fucking night, I’ve had people asking me where you are, or looking at their friends when I tell them to do something, like who the hell am I to be handing out orders?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m curious, was it your plan all along, or an opportunity you just couldn’t pass up?”

“Maybe if you were ever _fucking here_ the opportunity never would have presented itself!”

“Is that a confession?”

“No, it’s an accusation. You’re so busy saving the world and indulging in your ridiculous, masochistic tendencies with the Boy Who Walked Again, that you didn’t even know there was a problem until it kicked you in the face.

“I’m _here_. Every. Day. I know everyone’s names. I know who’s good at what and who’s screwing who and—“

“It’s not like that with Logan,” Max said defensively. “And besides, without him, we would have been starved out and defenseless months ago—“

“I know that! It’s not the point.” Alec jerked a hand through his hair, trying to resist the urge to put a hole in the wall. Max could be really, really dense sometimes.

“Enlighten me, won’t you?”

“These people,” Alec said, gesturing widely with his arm, “most of them have lived their whole lives in dungeons and the rest in brain-washing boot camps. They need jobs to do, and someone to tell them to do them.”

“And you were more than happy to step in, weren’t you?”

Alec deflated, suddenly very, very tired of fighting with Max. Sometimes it felt like that was all they ever did. Sometimes it felt like nothing he ever did would be good enough. He hated that he cared what she thought, especially since he never had on the outside. He kind of hated her, too, just for making him give a damn.

“Do you really think so little of me?” he asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. “Is that what you think we are? That I weaseled my way into your pants to distract you? That I’m using you? Fuck—“

“You do have a history of putting your own self-interest first,” Max replied accusingly. She wasn’t shouting anymore, but she still held herself in the same aggressive stance, unwilling to back down. She was kind of absurd like that. No matter which mountain she picked to make her stand on, she’d die there before admitting she was wrong.

“If I was only looking out for myself, then why am I still here?” Alec shouted. “I could be halfway around the world sipping cocktails on a beach. But I’m not. I’m here, in stupid, rainy Seattle trapped in a nuclear fallout quarantine, surrounded by terrified, hostile ordinaries and about half the Washington State National Guard. Oh, and then there’s this whole creepy snake-cult thing, a bunch of batshit crazy loons hell-bent on killing every transgenic walking the earth. My gorgeous self included.”

Max pressed an index finger flat against her cheek, and looked up at the ceiling, a mock-pensive expression on her face. When she spoke, her tone was caustic. “You know, those are all really excellent points. So, why are you still here?”

Alec stared, incredulity dueling with plain old hurt. The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about them.

“Because, for once in my life, I have a _reason_ to do the right thing? People I care about? Because I was naïve and… hopeful enough to believe in _you_? That you could make a difference?"

Max said nothing, her body language shifting rapidly from aggressive to guarded, because that’s the way Max was. She only had two gears: cagey and pissed off. She was always so careful not to let her guard down.

“After everything we’ve been through, how could you even think that I would betray you like that?”

When it became obvious that Max wasn’t planning to reply any time soon, Alec stepped into the room, clearing the doorway for her escape. She had trouble meeting his eyes, and something inside him broke.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“Do what anymore?” Max said sharply. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Alec moved his hand back and forth between them. He sighed. “This, Max. There’s only so many times you can kick a dog before he stays down.”

Max tilted her chin up defiantly. It was answer enough.

“Give me a couple of days to get my shit together, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Fine,” Max snapped, scowling.

“Fine.”

Alec slammed the door behind her. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t make him feel better. Seriously, if he’d known that today was going to be the day he realized he was in love with Max Guevara, he would have stayed in bed.

**Day 74**

“Why Alec leaving?” Joshua asked.

He was sat on the edge of the bed, watching Alec stuff clothes into his duffel bag. He zipped it forcefully, and dropped it on the floor. Today _sucked_.

“Josh, sometimes things just don’t work out the way we want them too, no matter how hard we try.”

“Joshua sad. Not want Alec to go.”

“I know, Big Guy, but TC isn’t where I belong anymore.”

Joshua was quiet for a moment as he thought about Alec’s words. Alec figured he’d get it; Josh knew what it was like to not belong.

“Where will Alec go?”

Alec smirked. “Somewhere warm.”

Joshua stood and wrapped Alec in a suffocating embrace, nearly lifting him off the floor. Alec hugged him back. If he’d ever had a brother in this God-forsaken world it was Joshua, and he’d miss him.

“Take care of yourself, Big Guy,” Alec said, picking up his duffel and walking toward the door. “And keep an eye on Max. You know, make sure she takes care of herself.”

Joshua made that funny snuffling noise, and Alec smiled fondly.

“Alec take better care of Max than Joshua.”

“Nah,” Alec replied, “Max doesn’t need me.”

 

Alec would never, ever miss travelling by sewer. The smell never really seemed to come out of his clothes, and he’d ruined more than one perfectly good pair of boots coming in and out of Terminal City. He was pretty sure he’d miss just about everything else, though. Even having random people bursting into his room at all hours. For once he’d been part of something greater, something worthwhile and he felt directionless without it. He knew he’d be fine, but he knew he’d be lonely, too.

He’d even miss Max blaming everything on him, because it was all fire and passion with her, and even when he wanted to punch her in the face he’d never felt more alive. He’d felt like he belonged. Now that was all gone.

He’d tried to talk to her, explain why he’d done the things he’d done and that she was overreacting, but she had made it clear that her trust had been broken. After all the effort he’d put into convincing her to let him in, after he’d finally learned to trust her, too, it seemed such a pitiful end to things. When Alec had first gotten out of Manticore, he’d thought that he’d be better on his own. He’d thought Max had proven him wrong, that being part of something was worth it. Apparently he’d thought wrong.

Alec saw faint light around the next bend in the tunnel; he was nearly to the exit. Then all he had to do was get out of the city. He still had his Jam Pony sector pass, so as long as no one recognized him from that fateful day all those weeks ago, he should be golden. Then it was south to warmer climes. The weather in Seattle depressed him, anyway.

Alec’s phone rang in his pocket, and he cursed under his breath. He’d meant to leave it behind for someone else to use, but was so used to having it in his pocket that he’d forgotten. He dug it out and was about to press the ignore button, but hesitated when he saw Syl’s name come up on the caller ID. Curious, he flipped it open.

An odd noise ahead in the tunnel gave him pause, and he froze, sharp eyes searching the gloom for anything out of the ordinary. Then a shadow detached from the wall of the tunnel, a figure, and Alec would recognize those shoulders anywhere. This was Not Good.

“Xena!” he greeted brightly. “Come to see me off?”

“You are obnoxious,” she said, stalking toward him. “How does 452 tolerate your presence?”

Alec snorted. “She doesn’t, really.”

There were more footsteps behind him, and Thula smiled. It was purely predatory and gave him the wiggins. Alec didn’t have to look to know he was now outnumbered. He let his duffel slide off his shoulder, already well aware of just how fucked he was.

“You guys aren’t really big on sportsmanship, are you?”

Alec ducked when he heard a _whoosh_ behind him, just in time to miss being smashed in the head by a pipe. He kicked out behind him, catching the second guy in the gut, then spun and landed a solid round-house on the guy’s jaw. He stumbled backward and dropped the pipe with a loud clang that reverberated down the tunnel.

Thula closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and aimed a deadly chop at Alec’s windpipe. Alec grabbed her wrist just before her hand made contact, and twisted downward. He head butted her twice, then brought his knee up to hit her stomach, but she blocked it with a hastily raised leg.

Alec raised his fist to punch her in the face, but had the wind knocked out of him as the second guy struck him with the pipe right across the chest. Then, wielding it like a quarterstaff, he jabbed it toward Alec’s head. He almost didn’t duck in time.

Thula took advantage of Alec’s distraction, and drove her knee up into his face. He felt his nose snap, and blood flow, but when the pipe came hurtling at him again, he yanked hard on Thula’s arm, placing her between him and the blow. It fell hard on her shoulder, and was delivered with such force that it drove her to her knees.

Thula yanked right back, swiping her leg around simultaneously. Alec wasn’t fast enough, and hit the ground with a heavy thud. He forced himself to climb back to his feet, and was rewarded by a heavy blow to the back of the neck. He fell on his face this time, and took a rough kick to the gut, then another to the kidneys.

Then freakishly strong hands grabbed him by the back of his shirt and lifted him off the ground like he weighed little more than child. Thula threw him hard against the sewer wall; he cracked the back of his head on the concrete pipe and saw stars.

She aimed a wicked left hook at his face, which he somehow managed to block before throwing a punch of his own. It landed squarely on her jaw.

“Enough,” Thula snarled, and suddenly her man-hands were wrapped impossibly tight around his throat and he felt his feet leave the ground as she shoved him up the wall.

Alec might have been able to survive six minutes without oxygen, but Thula had her thumb firmly against his aorta, effectively cutting off blood supply to his brain. He kicked out wildly, trying to land anything at all and his fingers grappled frantically with the hand squeezing the life out of him. A sense of panic washed over him as the edges of his vision darkened, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Thula’s condescending sneer.

Yeah, today totally sucked.

 

Command was buzzing with activity, but Max hardly registered it. In fact, Max had had a hard time focusing on anything at all since Alec had come to talk to her the day before. A conversation that had started off only slightly defensively had quickly devolved into a classic shouting match that ended with Max storming off and Alec throwing things against the wall.

In other words, it was just like almost every other conversation they had.

Except the ones that really weren’t. There were some that had ended in a pleasant sense of camaraderie. Some made Max question everything she’d ever assumed about Alec and gone a long way to building the tenuous trust they had between them. And, in the past week, there had been several conversations that ended with plenty of nudity and shouting that had nothing to do with anger.

Those were the ones that burned. He’d made her trust him, then made a complete fool out of her.

But it didn’t matter now. He was leaving - was probably already gone, and Max absolutely refused to acknowledge the aching loss she felt swelling up in her chest every time she thought about him. She supposed some things ended up broken and ugly regardless of one’s intentions in the beginning.

Syl stood next to Max, chewing on an apple. Max sighed.

“Sullen is a terrible look on you, chica.”

“I am _not_ sullen,” Max protested. “I’m… pensive.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to. And just for the record, you’re also an idiot.”

“Is this the sisterly affection I spent years wishing I had?” Max snapped. “Because I gotta say, it’s really not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. Don’t take your anger out on me just because you couldn’t get over yourself long enough to ask Alec to stay.”

Max really wished people would stop saying his name.

“If he wants to go, who am I to stop him?”

“He doesn’t really _want_ to go. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

“It’s better this way,” Max said. She wondered whom it was she was trying to convince.

Syl heaved a put-upon sigh. “In what way could this possibly be better?”

“Because I can’t trust him anymore, and I don’t need that.”

Syl actually buried her face in her hands before dragging her hair back from her face in frustration. “Is this about that shit that happened with Mole the other day? Jesus, chica. One lizard-guy has more respect for Alec, and you blow a gasket.”

“Blow a gasket? You’re kidding, right? He was undermining my authority!”

“Oh, so _what_? Do you really want to do all of this yourself?” Syl said, gesturing broadly with her arms. “Did it ever occur to you that he was just getting your back?”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“So do you.” Syl snapped. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and tossed it to Max. “Just fucking call him, before it’s too late.”

Max glared back and forth between her sister and the phone. She couldn’t help but think that it was probably already too late. Even if Alec did answer his phone, even if he didn’t hang up on her, there was the possibility that she’d pushed too hard this time. And that was if she called him at all, because Max’s sentimentality came in fits and spurts and she usually had to work up to it. Regardless of how logical Syl’s arguments were, the fact was Max was still hurt and a little bit angry.

She was starting to feel like a bit of an idiot, though.  
“Fine,” she said, flipping open the phone and punching in Alec’s number.

The phone rang several times, and Max was just about to hang up when the line suddenly connected.

“Alec? It’s Max.”

Silence.

“Listen, I think we need to talk.”

Silence. Max sighed.

Then, faintly, she heard his voice over the line. _“Xena! Come to see me off?”_

Max furrowed her brow in confusion. Xena? Oh. “Oh, God,” she breathed. “Alec?”

“What is it?” Syl said.

“Mole!” Max shouted across Command.

“What?” he snapped. He and Max hadn’t really been vibing since the night of the fire.

“Radio Raif and tell him to lock us down. No one goes in or out without talking to me. We’ve been breached.”

Max was running across Command toward the exit before Mole could decide whether or not to obey, the phone pressed tight against her ear. There were unmistakable sounds of combat filtering through; they were echo-y and a little disjointed, telling Max he was still somewhere in the tunnels. Max knew that Alec preferred to use the exit at Oak and 5th because it was almost completely dry, and he hated getting his boots wet.

Syl fell in beside her, and they headed north-west at full-speed. There was silence on the other end now, and Max thought she hated it more than the sound of Alec getting his ass kicked. If Thula had found Alec, then he most definitely was getting a beating because she never travelled without an entourage.

About halfway there, they ran past Krit and Jared walking together. Krit took one look at his sisters’ faces and took off after them, dragging Jared with him.

“What’s up?” Krit asked when he caught up.

“Alec’s in trouble,” Syl answered.

Max wasn’t really paying attention though. The whole of her attention was focused on listening, her ears straining for even the slightest clue as to what was happening. There were footsteps approaching the receiver, and the crunch of dirt and sand beneath boots; the phone must have been dropped at some point during the altercation.

“Alec? Can you hear me?” Max said loudly “Are you okay?”

A short laugh travelled clearly over the line. _“He’s alive. For now.”_

Max’s blood boiled; God she hated that woman.

“Thula. It hasn’t been long enough.”  
__

_“452.”_

Max could almost picture the other woman’s lip curling in distaste. The feeling was mutual.

“If you hurt one hair on his head, I will personally remove yours from your neck,” Max said vehemently. The thought of what that crazy bitch might do to Alec made her stomach turn.  
__

_“I look forward to it. Mr. White will be in touch.”_

Max flipped the phone closed forcefully, and stuffed it in her pocket. “Anyone got a walkie?”

“I do,” Jared said.

They’d just reached the man-hole cover that was the entrance to the sewer Alec had used. Jared tossed Max his walkie as Krit bent and slid the lid off.

“Thanks.” She brought the radio to her lips. “Max for Command, come in.”

 _“Go for Command, this is Dix,”_ the radio crackled.

Max jumped down the hole, tucking her arms in to avoid catching them on the metal rungs. She landed with a soft thud and started forward.

“You still hacked into the hover drone command?”  
__

_“Yeah.”_

“Great. I need you to redirect to Oak and 5th and the surrounding area. I need eyes out there.”  
__

_“Not a problem-. What’s going on?”_

Max hesitated, weighing the wisdom of announcing something like this over the radios, but then she realized that everyone in TC would probably hear within the hour anyway.

“White’s captured Alec.”

The words nearly stuck in Max’s throat, because knowing Alec had been taken and saying it aloud were two totally different things. It made it more real.  
__

_“What do you mean White’s captured Alec?”_ a second voice practically shouted over the radio. It was definitely Mole.

Max ignored him. “Max for Raif, come in.”

 _“I couldn’t raise him_ ,” Mole said, his volume somewhat lowered. _“But we’ve begun lock-down procedure anyway.”_

Alarm bells were ringing in Max’s head. Raif was about as close to a second-in-command as Alec had as far as security went, and she didn’t think she’d ever seen him without a radio on his belt.

“Good, I want all-clears from each station.”  
__

_“Gotchya.”_

“I have Krit, Syl and Jared with me in the north-west tunnel exiting on Oak and 5th, so don’t shoot.”  
__

_“I’ll try to control myself,_ ” Mole said dryly.

Max was not entirely convinced of his sincerity.

There was no sign of Alec until the very end, where Max found his duffel bag with his cell phone balanced neatly on top. In fact, other than a bit of medium velocity blood spatter just a couple of feet away, and a four-foot length of rusted pipe lying in the middle of the floor, there wasn’t any evidence that someone Max cared about had been kidnapped there less than five minutes past.

Thula had left Max a little surprise folded up in Alec’s phone, too. A lock of his hair and slid into her hand upon opening it, and it was all Max could do to control herself. She was sick with worry over Alec’s well-being, angry that something like this had happened at all, let alone in area they controlled, but mostly she just felt guilty. If she’d just tried harder – or at all – to work things out with Alec this would have never happened. They’d be back at Command, bickering over something that didn’t really matter, or doing something decidedly more pleasant. Anything but this.

“Wanna take a look around top-side?” Krit asked.

“They’re gone,” Max said firmly, like she was trying to beat the fact into her head. Then she turned and walked back toward TC.

 

Max’s anxiety grew the closer they got to Command; she couldn’t raise anyone on the walkie and Syl’s phone mysteriously had zero signal, and TC was just big enough that you could walk all the way across it and not meet anyone. The sun had set while they were below ground, but the late summer air was still stiflingly hot. Max felt like she was suffocating.

There were just too many questions, and she didn’t have nearly enough information to answer them all. Not even some of them.

“Max!” Mole called out as they approached Command.

“What the hell’s wrong with the radios?” she demanded.

“The jammer’s, well, jammed. But you better get inside. There’s something you need to see.”

Well, if that wasn’t ominous, Max didn’t know what was.

Max followed Mole into Command, the others trailing behind. It was no wonder they hadn’t passed anyone on the street; everyone was inside Command. Well, not everyone literally, but the large room was packed and they all turned to look at Max when she entered.

From the center of the room, Max saw Dix spot her, then rush down the short stairs from the computer terminal and shove his way through the crowd. He fell in step next to Max, who was still following Mole toward the very back.

“One of the hover drones picked this up about a half a block from the exit,” he said, handing her a stack of photographs. They were still hot from the printer. “It’s not much, but I got a partial plate on the car.”

Max flipped through them. It was a progression of stills; a tall woman with long red hair and a man carrying an unconscious Alec over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They walked to a banged up Jeep Cherokee from the nineties. Then the woman spotted the drone; the last photo was of her pointing a gun at it.

“Were you able to track the Jeep?”

“Only to Sector Twelve,” Dix confessed, adjusting his monocle, ‘then I lost them.”

“Well, find them.”

“I’m on it.”

About halfway through the room, there was a small group of transgenics congregated around a folding table. Some of them were crying, and when one of them shifted to give another a brief embrace, Max was met with Leah’s pale face. Max could tell the girl’s neck had been broken. Jared noticed, too, and rushed over to his friend’s lifeless body and gently brushed her hair back from her face.

Max wondered if they’d had a thing going, and felt bad because Alec would have known and she didn’t. And Max worked with them almost every day.

There was a room at the back of the warehouse that Alec and Max had used as a sort of office. It was located between the armory and the dry goods storage, and they’d managed to find a pretty nice desk and a chair with its wheels still attached. It was a quiet room they mostly used for tallying inventory, and discussing what needed to be done for the day.

So, when Mole opened the door and Max saw Raif secured with flex-cuffs to the chair, she had to do a double-take.

“What the fuck?”

“We caught him trying to sneak out. He killed Leah.”

Max was really confused for about two heartbeats before all the pieces started clicking into place. She laughed, and everyone stared at her like she’d gone mad. Though she had to admit, it sounded a little crazy even to her own ears.

“Oh, you’re good,” Max said. “You even had Alec fooled, and he’s usually got a pretty good read on people.”

Raif sneered, his teeth white and vibrant against tar-black skin, and cat-like eyes glinted green in the dim light cast by the lamp on the desk. Max wanted to rip him apart.

“It wasn’t hard,” he said boastfully. “He had a lot on his shoulders, and I was only too glad to help ease the burden.”

“Max, what’s going on?” Syl asked behind her.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Mole added, taking a puff off his cigar.

Max dropped Alec’s duffel to the floor and gestured grandly toward the bound transgenic. “Ladies and Gentlemen, I have the great pleasure of presenting to you the Terminal City Turncoat. Suggestions for how to end his miserable existence are appreciated and should be placed in the box at the door.”

The declaration was met with stunned silence, and Max couldn’t blame them.

“Zara, that Sector Three extraction that went sideways – probably the power surge that night, too – and the fire. The two bogeys that supposedly vanished into thin air. Alec. People died because of you. So tell me, just to assuage my curiosity, what did those snake-worshipping freaks offer you that was worth killing your own kind?”

"Freedom,” Raif hissed. “You morons think you're making a point, holing up in this pit, but really you've just traded one prison for another."

"And what did you give them in return for this supposed freedom?"

Raif pressed his lips into a thin line, refusing to answer.

"Come on, don't hold out. Jig's up." Max leaned in close and looked him in the eye. "Maybe if you tell me, I won't kill you."

Raif snorted dismissively. “You won’t kill me. It’s not your thing.”

Max regarded him sedately, but inside she was anything but. Anger and fear blended hotly into desperation, threatening to cloud up her head and drive her to hysteria. She’d felt it before: this all-consuming _need_ to make things right. It had been the day Renfro double-crossed Lydecker and had taken Tinga. Max imagined today ending the same way, and something broke.

Max reached over and grabbed Mole’s pistol from his belt and pulled the slide back, ensuring there was a bullet in the chamber. It was massive, a Desert Eagle .50 cal from the looks of it. She quirked a brow at Mole.

“Compensating, are we?”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Raif said.

Then she shot Raif in the knee.

The noise was deafening, making it easier to ignore the shocked cries from her siblings. Mole looked at her like he hardly recognized her, but in a good way. Like he was impressed. He still took a step back, though.

Max stepped forward and aimed the gun at Raif’s head.

“What did you give them?” she asked, her voice cold. She wanted to scream.

“ _Bitch_!” he shouted, thrashing about in his chair. “What the fuck—“

Max shot the other knee. “Come on, rat, there are only so many more places I can shoot you without you bleeding out all over my nice office.”

“Take it easy, Max,” Krit said soothingly.

“Let’s stop and think about this before you do anything… rash,” Syl added.

“Do you think he’s gonna spill his guts because I asked so nicely? I have to find Alec, and I don’t really have the patience for playing this fool’s games. If it’s too much for you to handle, there’s the door.”

“We,” said Syl. “We need to find Alec.”

“Whatever.”

Then Max stepped to Raif and pressed the muzzle of the gun flush against his forehead. Raif froze, his creepy-ass eyes trained on the firearm.

“You’ve got ten seconds before I paint it all red, baby. So spill. Ten… nine… eight… seven… six… five… four…”

Max applied gentle pressure to the trigger; Raif’s eyes widened, and the arrogant expression he’d had on his face pretty much the entire time finally began to slip.

“Three…”

“Access!” Raif shouted. “They wanted into your systems, so I blew the transformers. And the fire – that was me too. The ordinaries were just a cover to get the Phalanx in.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “Fuck, you’re crazy.”

Max took a moment to process this.

“So, why Alec? It’s me they want.”

Raif grinned, smug and feral, and Max got it. They’d taken him to get to her, to screw with her head. Thula said that White would be in touch, and Max would bet everything she owned that she would be the requested ransom.

“Where did they take him?”

“I don’t know.” Max began to squeeze the trigger again. “Jesus, I really don’t know! My part was done. All I had to do was get out of TC, and they’d give me a bag full of money and an address where I could live in peace.”

It was Max’s turn to snort. “Are you really that stupid? What makes you think they were planning on giving you anything but a bullet in the back?”

“And what are you going to do with me?” Raif countered, his face twisted in pain.

“I say we hot the bastard,” Mole suggested. “He’s more trouble than we need right now. Not to mention it’s no more than he deserves.”

Syl crept forward and placed her hand on Max’s arm. She lowered the gun, and Raif released an audible sigh of relief.

“Lock him down. I have this thing about wasting people, even if they are bottom-feeding scum.” Then Max leaned in really close. She tapped him on the nose and smiled. “Make me regret it for one second, and I’ll make you wish I’d shot you.”

Max turned and handed the gun back to Mole. “Thanks. Get Dix and Joshua in here. We need to start planning. And someone get this piece of shit out of my sight before I change my mind.”

 

Some days Alec really hated his life, and today was totally one of them. Thula really had it in for him, but if she was trying to kill him, she was definitely planning on doing it as slowly as humanly possible.

Alec had no sense of time, either, which was frustrating. He’d lost consciousness and woken chained to a ceiling, but he could have been out for twenty minutes or two hours. Sloped ceilings and bare rafters coupled with the dry musty smell permeating every molecule of breathable air suggested he was in an attic, but since the only window was blacked out, Alec had no way of gauging his location, either. Hell, he could be in Oregon, for all he knew.

But he could hardly be bothered with that. Not when he had Thula keeping him such excellent company. She’d been using him as a punching bag for the better part of eternity, and Alec honestly wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His nose was broken and his neck sore from when he got jumped in the tunnel, but that was the lightweight stuff. His shoulders ached from supporting the whole of his weight for so long, and each breath drawn was pure agony, as Thula had broken every rib Alec had received the last time he’d encountered the Conclave’s assassins.

He kept trying to go to his Happy Place, but wasn’t having much luck. He suspected it was because his Happy Place wasn’t very happy anymore. It used to be a strip club, dark and anonymous with music blaring and lights flashing and more gorgeous, seductive women than he could ever possibly bed. Now it was Max, wrapped in his arms that first morning with the rising sun creeping through the window making her skin glow.

But that was all gone now, so Alec gritted his teeth and waited for the next blow to fall.

He heard a door open behind him, and Thula stopped her fist, mid-swing. She stood at ease, with her hands crossed behind her back, and her legs spread to shoulder-width.

“Give us a minute, would you?”

Thula glared threateningly at Alec. Like he was gonna make a run for it. “I’ll be right outside.”

The door closed a moment later, and Ames White appeared in Alec’s somewhat limited range of vision. He pulled a folding chair from against the wall, and placed it in the middle of the room in front of Alec. He sat with his legs straddling the back, and looked at Alec like he found something genuinely amusing. Alec glared.

“You know, you’re not nearly as quippy as you were the last time we met.”

Alec spat a wad of bloody spit at White. It landed squarely on one of his highly polished shoes. White curled his lip in disgust before pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiping it away.

"What do you want with me?"

White made a funny noise at the back of his throat, which Alec assumed was a laugh. If White even _could_ laugh.

"I'd forgotten how arrogant you are. What makes you think this is about you?"

It took some effort, but Alec managed to look up at his cuffed wrists. "Gee, I don't know. The chains were a bit of a clue."

The corners of White’s mouth twitched upward, like they were trying to smile, but couldn’t seem to get it right. Alec thought it was creepy.

"No, 494, there are much greater things at play today than you could ever imagine. You see, I just needed to distract 452. She has a habit of disrupting my plans, and I've been told the two of you have quite the little thing going on.”

Alec’s head spun, trying to piece things together. Obviously he was learning first hand just how right he had been about there being a traitor, but what could possibly be so important that White would stage Alec’s kidnapping just to distract Max? He didn’t want think about it.

Kind of like he didn’t want to think about how frigging weird it was that White knew anything at all about his love-life, because _eww_.

"So, rearranging my internal organs?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Thula, she really doesn't like you. And since I'm going to kill you after I get 452, I thought, ‘What the hell?’"

Alec swallowed hard, hating that he believed the words before they even left his mouth. "Max won't come for me."

"Aw, trouble in paradise?" White mocked, taking out a cell phone.

“She won’t,” Alec insisted.

"We’ll see. Smile for the camera; she has to believe you're alive."

Alec flipped White the bird, just in time for the flash. Cocking his head to the side, he observed the photograph and shrugged.

“It’ll do.”

_  
“Max, what’s up?”_

“I need your help.”  
__

_“Is everything all right?”_

“No, not really,” Max replied. “Can you hook me up with a couple of sector passes, and maybe an exit permit? I might need to get out of the city, but I don’t know.”  
__

_“No problem on the sector passes, but the exit permit may take a while. They’ve been less inclined to hand them out now that they think everyone might be a transgenic attempting to escape and terrorize the world abroad. What’s going on?”_

“Ordinaries don’t need our help terrorizing the world. They do a pretty good job of it all on their own,” Max said. “How long do you think on the permit?”  
__

_“Couple of hours at least. Maybe more.”_

“Damn. Any way you can speed that up?”  
__

_“Max, what’s going on? I can tell when you’re freaked about something_.”

Max took a deep breath. “White’s got Alec.”

Logan was quiet for such a long time; Max actually thought he might have hung up on her. _“Whatever you need, Max. Keep me posted.”_

“Thanks.”

Max stuffed Syl’s phone back in her pocket, and took a moment to just breathe. It had been over an hour since Alec had gone missing, and every minute she sat on her ass waiting for a stupid phone call was another minute she could have been out there _doing something._ She hated waiting.

At least the time had not been spent idly. Raif had rigged the signal jammer to aid his escape, and had done such a good job of it, that they’d ended up having to scrap it. Max was annoyed that they lost such a valuable piece of equipment, but they really needed the phones and radios to work.

Dix had recruited Zero, who was apparently a freaking computer genius, and the two of them set out to locate and repair the breach in their system, then hopefully back-trace it to its origin. A trace had also been placed on Alec’s phone, so when White finally called they’d have a chance at pinpointing his location, and hopefully Alec’s, giving them an advantage.

Fixit and Mole had ventured out into Seattle and returned with a second van, and were currently in the process of outfitting it with gun racks and a small arsenal. Syl was lending a hand wherever she was needed, and Krit and Joshua were at the hospital putting together a medical kit. It turned Max’s stomach to think about it, but she had to face that if Thula had her hands on Alec for more than about two minutes, there would be physical damage sustained. Max could only hope she wouldn’t be too late.

“Max!” Dix called. “Incoming.”

Max’s pulse quickened. She hastily crossed the room and took the stairs up to the computer station two at a time. Dix handed her Alec’s phone. The display on the front read ‘1 New Message From: Max.’ Well, that explained where her phone went.

She steeled herself, and then opened the message. It wasn’t a text, but a photo, and Max’s heart broke to see Alec so abused. He was chained to the ceiling, and his shirt had been torn away, showing off the smears of black and blue painting his chest and abdomen, and there was dried blood on his face and neck.

The cruelty of mankind never ceased to astound her, and the only reason Alec had become a target was because of Max. Because he was unfortunate enough to have her care for him, no matter how poorly she showed it.

The middle finger and the defiance in his eyes gave her hope, though. He wasn’t totally lost to her yet.

“What’s it say?” asked Zero.

Max swallowed the bile that had risen in the back of her throat. “Nothing,” she said. “It’s proof of life.”

Zero and Dix exchanged looks. Then the phone rang.

“ _452_ ,” White greeted.

“Alec dies, I make a phone call and your boy doesn’t live to see his next meal.”

“ _I don’t believe you,_ ” White responded smoothly. _“You’ve got this whole Moral Highground thing going.”_

“That’s what your friend Raif said before I splattered his shit all over the wall,” Max said evenly.

White paused, just for a fraction of a second, but Max caught it. His son was his weak spot, and he knew Max knew it.  
__

_“You wouldn’t harm an innocent child.”_

“Wanna find out? Because I’m telling you, I’ve had a really bad day. There’s no telling what I might be capable of.”  
__

_“Give yourself up, and your little toy soldier can go. We can leave my son out of the equation all together,”_ White countered. _“You’ve got three hours.”_

Dix made a frantic gesture with his hands, telling Max to keep White on the line.

“I’m curious, though. Why now? You’ve had men inside my city for days. What took you so long to make your move?”

Max could almost hear White sneer.

" _You improvise, make it all up as you go along. You can't understand that in some matters, timing is everything. Three hours, 452."_

"Yeah?” Max blurted in a desperate attempt to get just a few more seconds out of him. They _needed_ an address. “And how exactly am I supposed to go about surrendering to you?"  
__

_"Walk out the front gate, and my men will pick you up."_

"You mean walk out the front gate so I can give your snipers a clear shot at my head. That way you won’t have to worry about me beating your ass when you don’t hold up your end of the deal and send Alec back in a body bag.”  
__

_"He’ll be going back in a body bag regardless, if you don’t surrender.”_

“So will your son.”  
__

_“Clock’s ticking. Veni Stol."_

"Whatever." Max snapped the phone closed, and resisted the urge to throw it across the room. "Please, for the love of God, tell me you got something. I feel dirty just talking to that ass on the phone."

Dix grinned, and Zero beside him beamed. "We got an address.”

Max allowed herself a smile.

_  
In some matters, timing is everything._

The words nagged at the back of Max’s mind. Like lyrics to a bad song they just wouldn’t quit, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that they hinted at something much bigger than Alec’s kidnapping. But what?

Max checked her watch. Two hours and seventeen minutes left – two less minutes than the last time she checked. But things were coming together quickly; they’d be ready in no time. The address Dix had traced the call to was just outside of the city, and would probably take a little over a half an hour to get there, provided they got no trouble from Sector Police. They were just waiting for Logan to come through with the sector passes, and hopefully the exit permit.  
__

_Timing is everything._

Max stalked back to the office. Maybe Raif was feeling more cooperative than he was earlier.

“What’s White planning?” she demanded after closing the door.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Raif replied slowly. His words slurred slightly.

Tourniquets had been applied to his gunshot wounds, but he had still lost enough blood to make him woozy. Max could tell he was struggling to maintain consciousness.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she snapped. “You have to know something, even if you weren’t meant to. What’s he planning?”

“If I did, why would I tell you? You shot me,” Raif responded. “Twice.”

“You deserved it.” Max leaned against the desk, crossing her ankles in front of her. “How about this: You help me out, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you a transfusion, ‘cause you’re not looking so hot.”

Raif hung his head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m a dead man either way. If anything happens to you or Alec, the others won’t hesitate to finish what you started, and if you let me go, I’d be lucky to last a week on the outside.”

“Well, then consider this a dying man’s last chance to do the right thing. Maybe redeem himself.”

Raif laughed weakly. “Go to hell.”

Max ground her teeth together, because she really wanted to punch him in the face right now. Maybe she was going about this the wrong way. Max scrubbed her face with her hands, and a thought suddenly occurred to her. She laughed at herself.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.” She pulled her radio off her belt and pushed the button. “Max for Syl, come in.”  
__

_“Go for Syl. What’s up, Maxie?”_

“Do me a favor, would ya? Run out and bring Delilah down here. I think I may require her specialized skill set.”

Max watched Raif as she said this, and was pleased to see his eyes widen. Delilah was a telepath, but apparently one of Manticore’s earlier attempts at the model. Max had it on good authority that it hurt like a mother to have her fishing around in one’s head.  
__

_“You sure?”_ Syl asked.

“Oh yeah.”  
__

_“All right. Oh, and Logan’s live on the webcam with Dix right now. He said he’s got what you asked for, and is going to bring it down right away.”_

Max wondered why Logan didn’t just call her, but realized it hardly mattered. So long as he got her what she needed, she was happy.

“Excellent,” she replied, genuinely pleased. “He usually comes in Magnolia and Commerce, so let the sentry there know.”  
__

_“Will do. Over.”_

It was Max’s turn to be smug as she sat with Raif, waiting for Delilah to arrive.

 

It was strange watching Delilah work. She was a little older than Max, maybe twenty-six or -seven, but was five-foot even if Max was an inch, with pretty chestnut colored corkscrew curls and hands that looked like a doll’s. Raif was easily over six feet tall, and she had him positively writhing with little more than two fingers pressed to his temple.

Max almost didn’t hear the knock on the door over Raif’s screams of agony. Without a word, Max pushed off the desk and stepped outside. It was Krit.

“I didn’t think torture was really your thing, Max,” he said disapprovingly.

“He’ll survive.”

“That’s not the point and you know it. You’re going off the deep end.”

Max sighed heavily. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but can we discuss ethics later? I need to know what he knows, period.”

Krit pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Logan’s here. Thought you might want to know.”

“Thank you.” Max started to walk away when Krit spoke again.

“This darkness you’re flirting with – it’s tempting, I know,” he said, swallowing hard. There was a knowing in his eyes that made Max wonder what had happened to put it there. “Especially since you – since it’s Alec, but it’ll swallow you whole if you’re not careful.”

“He’d go there for me.” Max knew he would, too. She didn’t know how she knew; she just _did_.

“Max—“

Max came back and embraced her brother tightly. “I hear you,” she said. “But I owe him this.”

Logan was at the computer station talking to Dix and Syl.

“Logan,” Max said. “I heard you came through.”

“I did indeed.” He handed Max an envelope. “I even got you the exit permit.”

“Thanks,” Max said, sliding the envelope in her back pocket. “I mean it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Suddenly, Delilah was at Max’s side. God, she moved like a wraith. Or maybe no one ever noticed her because she was so small. Krit was right behind her, his expression carefully bland.

“You were right,” she said, the grim expression strange on her sweet face.

Max’s gut twisted. “What did he give you?”

“He overheard a telephone conversation approximately a week ago. All he knows is that whatever is going to happen is going to be catastrophic, and that they’ve been working toward it for thousands of years.”

“Thanks, D. You mind hanging around? We might need you again.”

“No problem,” Delilah replied, already walking away. “I’ll find something to do.”

“It’s happening tonight,” Max said with total certainty. She suddenly wanted to sit down very badly.

“You don’t know that,” Logan said.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” she said, digging her hands into her hair. “That’s why they took Alec today; it’s a distraction. And these,” she gestured to the runes lining the insides of her arms, “say I’m the only one who will be able to stop it. That’s why I’m the ransom. Oh God, it’s perfect.”

“Calm down Max,” Syl said. “We don’t know anything.”

Max laughed the Crazy Laugh again. God, if she never had to do today again, she could die a happy woman. Everyone just stared at her.

“Let’s just look at what we know. There’s archaeological evidence that the Conclave has been around for thousands of years, and they’ve got this whole superiority complex thing going on. These freaky runes I’ve got written all over my body – they seem to say that I’m supposed to save humanity from some terrible, unidentified tragedy. Which, by the way, I could have lived the rest of my life not knowing.”

“Okay…” Logan said. “We knew that already.”

“Well, combine that with everything that’s happened today. One: Alec gets taken hostage. If they wanted to fuck with me, why not just kill him? If they wanted information, why not just ask Raif? He’s been the ace up their sleeve for weeks, maybe longer.

“Two: They want _me_. Preferably dead, but I’m pretty sure they’d love the chance to see what Sandeman did to me for themselves.

“Three: When I asked White why he made his move today, he told me that sometimes timing is everything. Why would he say that?”

“And four: Everyone hates us.”

Max stopped and took a deep breath. Everyone was still just staring at her, though now with a little concern mixed in with the confusion.

“Stop looking at me like I’ve lost my marbles!” she barked. “How can you not see how freaking brilliant this is? _It’s diabolical.”_

“Call me slow, but I don’t get it,” Dix said.

“Fine. Just for a second, humor me, and say that whatever the Conclave is planning is happening tonight, okay? White wants me to walk right out the front gate and surrender in exchange for Alec’s safe return. Obviously there’s a sniper waiting out there with a bullet that has my name on it. I’m dead, Alec’s dead, and there’s no one to stop whatever it is they’re planning.

“Or, I don’t surrender, but try to rescue Alec. White knows me well enough to know that’s what I’m going to do, so he’ll be waiting for it. He’s not stupid. He allowed us to trace the call because he wanted us to know where he was. He gets me, catastrophe proceeds as scheduled.

“This is the brilliant part: He pretty much told me that there was more going on than I knew, and he really didn’t seem all that bothered that his inside man had been compromised. We _know_. We may not know what or where, but we do know. So, if we know and do nothing and Seattle is decimated, guess who they’ll blame? Sandeman took steps to protect us from just about everything else out there, I’m sure we’d be spared from this, too. When they see their dead piled up in the streets and we’re all peachy-keen, they’re going to be out for our blood.

“Or we do try to stop it, but we fail. The only thing anyone is going to see is a bunch of transgenics beating up a bunch of ordinaries and then everyone died. Except us.”

“Whoa,” Zero murmured.

“He could destroy us,” Syl said, her voice weak.

“Without really having to lift a finger,” Max agreed. “All White has to do is send some familiars out to do… whatever it is, and public outrage will do the rest for him.”

“Don’t forget about all the innocent people who will die,” Logan added.

“But what can we do?” Dix asked. “Not to be all negative or anything, but we don’t know where this is going down. _If_ it’s going down.”

Max shot him a glare that would have impressed the devil. “You want to take that chance? If I’m wrong, so what? If I’m right and we sat here with our thumbs up our asses, we’ve sealed everyone’s fate.”

"How are we supposed to stop something when we don't even know what we're looking for?" Krit asked.

"Well,” Syl said clearing her throat, “it would have to be something capable of covering a wide radius with minimal product, but also something that won't draw too much attention to put in place. I'd rule out any sort of incoming projectile, like a missile because those can be traced back to their origin. I’d also put money on it being one central target that would reach most of the city in one go, rather than scattering it across the city. One target is easier to control, and they wouldn’t have to worry about their guys being pinched and disrupting the distribution."

"So pretty much, we're looking at something low-key and a central target with manual placement, if not deployment," Max said, summing it all up.

"But we don't know what it is," Dix said. "I mean, it could be anything."

"That’s not necessarily true," said Logan. He had that look, like a great idea was about to kick him in the face. "Whatever they're planning, must be capable of affecting all humans, but also be attributable to transgenics. In other words, if a nuclear bomb or another pulse were to be set off, everyone would blame Russia or North Korea. Which pretty much leaves us with--"

"Biological warfare," Max finished. She looked at Logan, and their eyes locked. “You don’t think—“

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think it sounds right up their alley. Airborne dispersal would be perfect, too.”

Logan nodded. “They’d need another biochemist, considering the last one got shot.”

“The Conclave has deep pockets.” Max furrowed her brow. “Don’t you have all the schematics? I thought Sung gave them to you so White wouldn’t get his hands on them.”

“I couldn’t save everything when they shot up my house, Max. I was more concerned with preserving the Informant Net. It’s possible they stumbled across it.”

“Hold on,” Syl interrupted irritably. “I think I speak for the rest of us when I ask: What the hell are you guys talking about?”

Max waved her hand impatiently. She and Logan had been on a roll, just like old times, and she had honestly forgotten that the others were even still there.

“Almost a year ago, before the transgenic cat was out of the bag, White paid this biochemist to engineer this bioweapon that targeted specific genetic sequences. At the time he was trying to wipe out all the transgenics on the west coast, but, if he has all the information and someone who knows their way around a genetics lab, I don’t think it’s that much of a stretch assume White’s turned it around and targeted ordinaries.”

“Okay,” Krit said. “But we still don’t know what the target is.”

“Um, hold on,” Zero spoke up. He turned back to his keyboard, and in a matter of seconds brought up a map of Seattle. “Tell me about these airborne dispersal units you mentioned.”

“They were military grade,” Logan said, “purchased on the black market. The canisters were launched from a hand held device, and triggered by an altimeter.”

Zero’s fingers flew across the keys, and after a minute green lines and red circles began appearing on the screen, overlaying the city. Some shrank, others grew, until there were six large red circles shaped in a ring. Green lines extended from the center of the ring to each circles.

“The green lines are trajectories, the red circles distribution radii. This scenario will cover the most ground from one target.” Another green line bounced up from the very middle, arced up, and went right back where it began. The ring filled in with another red circle. “Six canisters fired simultaneously from equidistant locations and a seventh fired vertically will blanket 93.4 per-cent of the city.”

“Jesus,” Syl breathed.

“Is that the Space Needle?” Max asked. It would figure White would pick her favorite place in the whole city to begin the mass extermination of human life.

“Yeah.”

“Great,” Max replied sarcastically. “Good work, Zero. I don’t know what the docs were mixin’ up in you X-6s, but they did a good job.”

Zero blushed at her praise.

“Not to rain on your parade, Max,” Dix said, adjusting his monocle, “but what about Alec? I understand he’s the carrot in this scenario, but we can’t just leave him.”

Max’s blood pressure spiked. “We’re not,” she ground out.

“No man left behind, right Maxie?” Krit said, trying to smooth things over.

“So, what’s the plan?” Logan asked.

“Give me five, and I bet I can come up with something that has an ice cube’s chance of working.”

“That’s reassuring,” Dix muttered.

“Meanwhile,” Max bit back, “Dix, Zero, I need you to map out the quickest routes, and come up with some exit strategies, in case this all goes downhill. The second van will go to the Space Needle, the first will head out to retrieve Alec.”

“Where do you need me?” Logan asked.

“Honestly? Out of town.”

“Max—“

“I mean it, Logan. If you want to help me, go get Cindy and Sketchy and get the hell out of dodge. I don’t know if we’re going to come out on top this time, and I don’t’ need to be worrying about you guys when there’s a city that needs saving.”

“Fine, but what about you?” Logan countered.

“What about me?”

“If this goes down like you think it will, S.P.D will have the city locked down in a heartbeat. You won’t be able to get back in to TC, and whoever goes for Alec will be trapped outside the city.”

Max considered a moment. “Do you still have that cabin you were supposed to take me to, up near the border, or did you sell it?”

“It’s still there,” Logan said, “though I can’t promise you what sort of condition it’s in now.”

“Doesn’t matter; we really just need a roof and four walls. It cool if we crash there until this blows over?”

“No problem.”

“Thanks.”

“Be careful, Max. And good luck.”

Max smiled. “You too.”

Max watched Logan as he walked across the room for a moment, before turning back to Syl and Krit.

“We need to talk, in private.”

Max led them to the dry goods storage, as the office was currently occupied, and shut the door.

“What’s up?” Krit asked.

“I need you guys to get Alec. I have to deal with the attack, and need someone I can trust to make sure he makes it out alive.”

“No,” Syl said.

Max blinked. “What?”

“No, we will not rescue Alec.”

“Syl—“ Krit said.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you’re going to.”

“I can’t,” Max insisted, even though it ripped her up to say it. “No matter how much it kills me to not be there for him, I have a responsibility to stop this. It’s my destiny even, if you listen to some people.”

“Oh screw destiny. Since when do you buy into all that crap, anyways? And this isn’t about obligations, Max, this is about your life. If Alec dies, you’ll be beating yourself up forever for not being there. And if we make it out all right, he’ll know that you weren’t there, and you may never move past it, regardless how well you justify it to yourself.”

“Syl’s right, Max. Let us handle the attack. Besides, I think you have some loose ends to tie up out there, and that won’t happen if you’re here.”

“This shit at the Space Needle, it’s just a bump in the road. White’s the real problem, and if you don’t deal with him now, while you have the chance, you’ll never be rid of him.”

Max couldn’t deny that she was looking forward to laying the smackdown on his scrawny ass. He’d been a thorn in her side from day one. Maybe it was time to end it, once and for all.

Having another crack at Thula wouldn’t really be a bad thing, either.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Syl responded.

 

The guns on the wall mocked Max. She hated them. They felt wrong, cheap in her hands; they felt like she was taking the easy way out, when ending a life should be anything but. But she thought she might need them this time.

Terminal City was populated mostly by Manticore’s more interesting genetic experiments. Most of the X-Series had some skills with which to survive on the outside, and hadn’t bothered to make their way to Seattle, let alone TC. Max was reluctant to bring any of them along since they were leaving the city, and having them only increased the risk of them failing before the plan even got off the ground.

It was bad enough that Mole wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. His loyalty to Alec was intense, and Max knew if she didn’t let him come, she’d never have him on her side again, and Mole had the ear of a lot of the others. He could make her life very difficult. Well, more difficult than it already was.

Joshua had insisted too, and Max thought she owed it to him, since he and Alec were so close.

Anyway, the point was she didn’t know if they had the manpower to pull it off, since most everyone was going with Syl and Krit to the Space Needle to avert impending doom.

“Syl says wheels up in five,” Joshua said, popping his head in the door. He scowled. "Little Fella doesn't like guns."

"I know, but I don't know what kind of firepower they have waiting for us,” Max said, sighing. “Or how many of them there are. It might just be White and Thula, or they could have a whole squad hiding out in that house. We're going to have to hit them fast and hard if we expect to get to Alec before they kill him."

Joshua put his arm around Max's shoulder. "Max will figure it out. Joshua knows." He tapped his hand to his chest, right over his heart.

"Thanks," she said, hugging him back. Max sighed again and reached for a pistol and a shoulder holster. "I've already shot one person today. I guess one or two more won’t hurt."

Joshua put his hand over hers, stopping it. The look on his face was mischievous. "How does Little Fella feel about swords?"

"What?"

Joshua grinned and began rifling through the crates. He came back triumphantly with a pair of matching katanas. "Alec stole them, long time ago. Said no one buy them."

“Huh,” Max said, replacing the pistol and accepting the swords from Joshua’s hands. “Is that so?”

Joshua nodded enthusiastically.

Max slid one of the blades partially out of its sheath and flicked her thumb across the edge. It was still sharp, and the leather straps used to secure them to one’s waist or back were still soft and supple. She chewed her lip for a moment, then smiled and went about wrapping herself up in leather straps, arranging the blades so they crisscrossed across her back.

“Badass,” Joshua said approvingly.

Mole arrived and stood in the doorway. “Hey, Ninja Girl, you ready to move out?”

Max glared. “Come on, Josh, let’s go save the day.”

 

Crouched in the living room of the house across the street, Max tried not to be too optimistic. They’d gotten out of the city without a hitch, which was beyond miraculous, considering there was a guy who looked like a lizard and another that looked like a dog wedged beneath the seats in the back of the van. It wasn’t the best neighborhood, so no one paid the beat up Dodge Caravan parked up the street any mind, and the streetlamps were all busted so no one saw them break into the house.

“Do you have the thermal gun?” Max whispered to Jared.

He nodded and pulled it out of the knapsack at his feet. Max took it and turned it on. She aimed it out the window, and slowly swept the house with it. She counted five signatures. Three were on the first floor; one of them was pacing (Max had money that was White) and the other two stood stalk-still, suggesting they were guarding the front and rear entrances. There were none on the second floor, but two in the attic, and the heat signature from one of them was significantly hotter than the other.

“Alec’s in the attic,” Max whispered. “Three downstairs, one more upstairs.”

“Do we go in hot?” Mole asked. He looked weird without the cigar, but Max had made him put it out lest he wake the residents. “Max?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to think.”

“Well, think a little faster.” Mole looked at his watch. “There’s only ten minutes left until the three hours are up.”

“I _know that_. So why don’t you quit wasting my time, and shut up?”

Mole glared daggers, but she ignored him. There was an idea forming, and she didn’t want to disrupt its development.

“All right, here’s what we’re doing. Katya, stay with the van, and be ready to get us the hell out of there as soon as the dust clears. Brutus and Jared, you’ll go in through the front. Josh and Mole through the back. I’ll scale the wall and go through a second story window, then make my way upstairs. You _must_ wait exactly forty-five seconds; if you don’t, Alec’s dead.”

Jared tossed Katya the keys to the van, and she took his bag before nodding to Max and sneaking back out of the house.

“Everyone ready?” Max asked. “Good. Oh, and hold off on firing your weapons as long as possible. We should probably avoid having the police called if we can manage it.” Max looked pointedly at Mole as she said this. He was a bit trigger happy.

“Fine,” Mole huffed.

Brutus chuckled.

“Let’s go.”

Max took out Alex’s phone and texted Syl.

_We’re going in._

_Copy that._

The street was deserted as they hurried across it, then split into groups to head for their positions. Max gave them a moment to get in place, then began climbing the side of the house. It was wood siding, but pieces were missing, giving her perfect hand- and foot-holds.

Standing on the window sill, Max used a pocket knife to unlock the old window, then carefully pushed it up, praying that it didn’t make too much noise. It didn’t, barely emitting a soft _shush_ sound, and Max slipped inside. She strained her ears for a moment, listening for any sign that the house’s occupants had changed location before stealthily creeping into the hall and up the stairs to the attic. She had just enough time to remove her swords from their sheaths before hearing the doors downstairs burst in simultaneously. Sounds of combat drifted up the stairs.

Max took a deep breath, and kicked the door in.

She tried, really, really hard not to look at Alec. Even his back was covered in bruises, and the uneven rise and fall of his shoulders as he drew breath was barely discernable. His legs hung limply, bare feet dragging the floor like he didn’t even have the strength to put them beneath him.

“You have a hero complex,” Thula said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Shut up, and let’s do this, bitch,” Max said, rage and disgust welling up inside.

Max tossed Thula one of the swords. She caught it by the grip then spun it once to test its balance. Metal sang as it sliced through air, and the clang of steel on steel filled the room. They worked their way across the room, circling each other like wildcats. The chain from which Alec hung was anchored to the wall opposite the door, and Max did her best to angle that direction.

Thula thrust for Max’s abdomen. Max parried the blow, then kicked her in the stomach and made a break for the wall, where she slashed at the hook the chain was worked around. It broke easily and Alec collapsed. He tried to break his fall with his hands, but the impact jarred his shoulders violently. His arms ultimately gave out beneath him, and he wound up on his face. He groaned in agony and briefly tried to get his knees beneath him, but failed and flopped over onto his back.

Max had to force herself to ignore him, because Thula was out for blood tonight. But that was okay, because so was Max. They met again, and Max let her instincts take over, because if she thought about what was at stake rather than the task at hand it was quite likely that both she and Alec would never see the outside of this room.

Thula was becoming frustrated by her lack of ground gained on Max. Their blades crossed, bring them nearly nose to nose. Then Max slammed her forehead against Thula’s and spun, and suddenly she had Thula’s weapon in her other hand. With arms crossed, Max swept both blades in a broad scissor-like motion that would have surely decapitated anyone else. But Thula was quick, and cartwheeled backward, out of strike range. She grabbed a folding chair that was propped against the wall, popped it open and used it to defend herself against Max’s onslaught.

Max wasn’t quite sure what happened but Thula somehow managed to twist the swords up the in the chair and yank them both clear out of Max’s grip. Then she kicked Max in the face.

Max recovered almost instantly and attacked, swords forgotten. They worked in circles again, constantly moving, trading blow for blow and block for block, until Max found herself a little too close to the wall for comfort.

She dealt a backhand to Thula’s face, then walked up the wall and flipped over the other woman. But Thula had anticipated the move, and spun around just in time to slam the heel of her boot into Max’s chest. Max stumbled back a step, and then kicked out at Thula’s ribs.

Thula quickly pinned Max’s foot to her side with her arm. Then she gripped Max’s thigh with her other hand, bent her knees slightly and lifted upward, spun in a circle and flung Max across the room. She hit the wall next to the busted door with such force that dust shook loose from the rafters. It knocked the wind out of her, but Max forced her body into motion, snapping back up to her feet.

From the corner of her eye, Max saw Alec struggling again to rise to his knees.

Thula had retrieved the swords while Max was on the ground. Max landed in a crouch just in time to catch Thula’s wrists as she drove both blades down toward Max’s face. In one fluid move, Max spun beneath her right arm, putting Thula behind her, arms crossed. Then Max flipped the other woman over her head; Thula landed on her feet, but facing away from Max with her arms stretched awkwardly behind her back. Putting a boot firmly between Thula’s shoulder blades, she pulled her arms painfully taut and wrested the blades from her grip.

Thula stumbled forward as Max released her, but quickly spun to meet Max’s attack. She was fast, rapidly ducking and dodging Max’s attempts to strike her, until Max thrusted. Lightning fast, Thula struck Max’s outstretched wrist with her foot, sending the sword flying straight into the air. She caught it easily, evening up the contest once again.

Thula’s counter attack was vicious, and Max found herself unwillingly retreating under the assault. Suddenly Max’s back was pressed to the wall and Thula was too close to bring the sword to bear properly, so she raised it over her head, and prepared to strike Thula’s neck with the pommel.

Thula caught Max’s wrist and pinned it to the wall with her hand. Then she took half a step back, blocked Max’s hastily thrown knee with her thigh, spun her sword around the flat of her hand and drove it into Max’s shoulder, sticking her to the to the wall like an insect to a board.

Max cried out, her hand reflexively dropping her weapon to grasp at the sharp object piercing her flesh. It hurt like a mother just to move, and Max couldn’t seem to get a good enough grip on the katana to yank it out. Max tried to kick out, buy her some time, but Thula was out of reach as she bent to pick up Max’s discarded sword. Then she stood in front of Max, her face twisted in a triumphant sneer and raised the blade high above her head.

Suddenly, there was a funny _whoosh_ , and a chain lashed out of nowhere to wrap itself around Thula’s wrists. Max’s eyes found Alec; he was barely strong enough to stand on his own two feet, but had somehow managed to save Max’s ass nonetheless.

His face twisted in pain, he gave the chain a mighty yank, pulling Thula’s hands to the side and causing her to drop the sword. He pulled again, dragging her closer and kicked her in the face before spinning her around and wrapping the chain around her neck.

Max wasn’t wasting any time. She could barely breathe through the blinding pain ripping through her chest, but she knew that Alec was no match for Thula in his current state, and she was no use stuck to the damn wall.

Thula dug at the chain for a moment before remembering what sort of condition Alec was in. Violently, she threw her head back into his face, elbowed him in the ribs, and then flipped him over her. He landed on his back and gasped for breath before breaking into body-wracking coughs.

Max saw blood staining his lips, and everything went red.

With both hands, she gripped the pommel as tightly as she could and _pulled_ , throwing her weight forward simultaneously to jerk the blade out of the wall. Thula stepped over Alec like he was garbage.

Max feinted an over-head blow; Thula fell for it, raising her hands to block it and leaving the rest of herself vulnerable. Rotating on her heel, Max struck a solid blow to the other woman’s knee, shattering the joint. Thula fell forward, landing on her good knee, and Max, both hands wrapped around the sword’s handle, stepped smoothly to the side and brought the blade down with every ounce of strength she had.

Blood sprayed Max’s face, hot and revolting, as the sword sliced cleanly through Thula’s neck.

“Veni Stol, bitch.”

Max wiped the blood from her face on her sleeve, and dragged the flat of her sword across Thula’s back to clean it off before she returned it to its sheath.

There was more groaning and coughing from Alec, and Max rushed to him, her eyes wide. He was stupidly trying to get up again, with little success. She knelt next to him and placed one hand on his back and the other on his arm. He practically fell into her arms, coughed again and spat blood on the floor.

Max’s stomach twisted. If she could kill that bitch again, she totally would.

“You came for me,” Alec wheezed between breaths. He was having a lot of trouble breathing.

The genuine surprise in his voice hurt.

“Of course I came for you, you idiot.”

“Well, what took you so long?”

“Your gratitude is overwhelming.”

Alec’s face contorted in pain and when his eyes met hers her throat tightened uncomfortably. “Can we leave now?”

Max tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Yeah, we can leave now.”

**Day 75**

Alec didn’t remember much after talking to Max except that Katya’s hands were almost unbearably cold and that the new van smelled just as bad as the old one. He kind of remembered Josh raging that White had escaped, but Alec hadn’t seen Josh since, so he wasn’t sure if he imagined that part or not.

In fact, there was a lot that he wasn’t sure if he imagined or not. The only thing he knew for certain was that everything fucking hurt, including the sliver of sunlight filtering in through a space in the ragged curtains as it crept across his face. The room looked like it had probably been really nice at one point, but had long fell into disuse. And the sheets were scratchy and smelled of mothballs.

There were voices outside his door, and Alec strained to listen.

“He needs a surgeon, Max. I know what I’m doing, but I don’t have the equipment.”

“What do you suggest?” Max replied tersely. “Just drive him to a hospital? There will be blood tests and police reports and way too many questions that I can’t answer. Like how he got this way in the first place. And we’re still close enough to Seattle that people are freaked about us. If they find out he’s a transgenic, he’s screwed.”

“He has a punctured lung,” Katya hissed urgently. “And severe damage to his kidneys and liver. The only reason he’s still alive is because of what he is; an ordinary would have died hours ago.”

There was a long silence, and Alec could almost imagine the look on Max’s face, the wheels turning in her head. Then there were heavy footsteps, headed away from the door.

“Where are you going?”

“You said he needs a surgeon?” Max demanded. “I’ll get him a fucking surgeon. Prepare one of the extra bedrooms. I’ll be back in an hour. _Don’t_ let him die while I’m gone.”

Alec slipped back into oblivion.

**Day 77**

There were small, positively frigid hands on Alec’s chest, and he batted them away, trying to recapture the warmth of the darkness he’d just been enveloped in. It was nice there. Nothing hurt there, and there certainly weren’t any freezing fingers probing him to awareness.

Alec cracked his eyes open, testing the light. There was a petite Asian woman standing next to his bed, gently pressing her fingers into his ribs, an awed expression on her face.

“Absolutely phenomenal,” she whispered.

Alec realized she wasn’t Katya and his brain kicked into gear. Cat-quick, he reached out and snatched her wrists. The woman squeaked in fright, but didn’t struggle.

“Who the hell are you?” Alec demanded, his voice hoarse. God, he was thirsty.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Alec!” Max said, flinging the door open. She placed her hands over his, and gently worked the woman’s hands free of his grip. “This is Dr. Su. She’s okay.”

Alec relaxed, and brought his hand up to cover his eyes. His ribs twinged, but it wasn’t the mind-blowing pain he’d expected, and his breathing was easier. Not back to normal, but it didn’t feel like his lungs were trying to escape though his mouth anymore. When he dropped his hand back to the bed, Max was looking at him, her expression unreadable.

“I’ll give you two a moment, but he really needs his rest, Max.”

Max nodded without looking away. Dr. Su closed the door behind her.

“Does she know?”

“Yeah,” Max said, the corner of her mouth twitching up in a smile. “She ran into Joshua in the bathroom. It would have been funny, if they hadn’t both had absolute freak-attacks. She fainted.”

Alec chuckled, but kind of regretted it. “Sounds pretty funny to me. Where’d she come from? Is this her place?”

Max shifted uncomfortably. “Logan’s family owns the cabin.”

Alec arched a brow. “And Dr. Su…?”

“Let’s just say I commandeered her services.”

“You kidnapped a doctor.” Well, that made sense. “Thanks, I guess.”

Max shrugged and looked away. “Well, I couldn’t go through all that trouble to rescue you then let you die. Bad form and all that.”

Alec smiled.

“But you really should try not to make a habit of this shit. I don’t know how much longer my luck’s going to hold,” Max continued. Her voice trembled slightly, but she quickly cleared her throat to cover it up.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Alec said quietly.

“I will always come for you.” Max fidgeted for a second, and dragged her hand through her hair. “”It’s my job, right? Saving your ass.”

“Lucky me,” Alec said, trying to ease the tension.

“Get some rest. We’re safe here.”

She was gone before Alec could think to try to stop her.

  
“Those cigars stink, man,” Alec groused. “How do you stand it?”

Mole shrugged and took another puff. “It’s part of my persona.”

Alec snorted. “Then what happened?”

“Then she shot him. Twice.”

Alec stared incredulously. “I don’t believe you.”

“I wouldn’t believe me either, if I hadn’t been standing right next to her. She was serious, man. I thought she was going to waste him right there. I’ve never seen her freak out like that before.”

Neither had Alec. Max hated guns, and she almost never totally lost her cool like that. If anyone but Mole had told him, Alec would have told them to fuck off.

“You know me and Max have always rubbed each other the wrong way, but I’ll be the first to admit that she will do whatever it takes to protect the people she loves.”

Alec froze. Mole froze, too, and the air was suddenly just too thick to be comfortable.

It was just a turn of phrase.

“Anyway,” Mole continued hurriedly, “White called a little while later, and that’s when she started to put things together.”

Mole related the entire tale to Alec, but if asked later what was said, he wouldn’t have been able to answer.

**Day 78**

The next time Alec woke up, it was the quiet hour before dawn where the sky was lavender and the air so still and quiet one could imagine they were the only person on the face of the planet. Except Alec knew he wasn’t. It was the sound of quiet crying that had awoken him, and a quick survey of the room found Max sat on the floor next to the closed door. She had her back pressed against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest. Her elbows were folded across her knees, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed into her arms. The sound tugged at his heartstrings.

“Max?” Alec said softly. His voice sounded out of place in the stillness.

Max snapped her head up and looked at him in the darkness before hastily wiping tears off her cheeks. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What’s wrong?”

She waved her hand dismissively and started to rise. “Go back to sleep.”

Yeah, fat chance.

Alec pushed himself up on an elbow, which was decidedly _not_ comfortable, so he could see her better.

“ _Max_ ,” he said sharply. “What’s wrong?”

She halted with her hand on the door knob and seemed to debate whether or not she should speak.

“Syl called… Krit – he, uh…” She drew a deep breath. “Apparently there are some things that even a genetically engineered fighting machine can’t bounce back from.”

“Max—“

“I knew he’d fallen, but… I guess I just assumed he’d pull through, you know?”

Alec had absolutely no clue what to say, but thought maybe Max just needed to talk. So he let her.

“I should have been there,” she said, turning to face him. “I was supposed to be there. It was my responsibility. But I can’t be in two places at once, and he said I should go find you. And now he’s dead, and—“

“And I’m not.”

Max nodded, and wiped her face again. “And I keep trying to hate you for it; I want to hate you for it because I chose you.” She laughed bitterly. “Save Seattle or save you, and I chose you. And my brother’s life was all it cost me.

“And you know what the worst part is? All I can think is that if I take my eyes off you for one fucking second I’ll lose you, too. My brother’s _dead_ , and I’m worried about _you_.”

Max gestured helplessly with her arms. The darkness had made her bold, loosening her tongue and making it easier to say things she’d never confess with the lights on.

“What have you done to me?”

Nothing more than you’ve done to me, Alec thought.

“Come here,” he said instead.

Max faltered for a second before hesitantly closing the distance between them. He reached for her hand cautiously, like she might bolt if he moved too quickly, and tugged. To Alec’s endless surprise, she didn’t resist him. Max crawled willingly beneath the blankets, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder when he lay back down.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

Max started crying again, and he stroked her hair until she fell asleep.

She was gone when he woke again.

**Day 84**

Over the next few days, Alec saw very little of Max, though he half expected she watched him while he slept sometimes. Just to reassure herself that he was still breathing. Which was just as well, Alec supposed, because she seemed to have trouble being in the same room with him when the sun was up. When she was forced into his company, she kept the conversations so stringently neutral that Alec wanted to throw something at her, just to see if he could still piss her off.

It felt like she was distancing herself from him, but in true Max fashion, she refused to talk about it.

His convalescence wasn’t all bad though. Joshua, Mole, Jared and even Brutus kept him plenty of company, so he was never bored, and whoever was cooking wasn’t half-bad. Alec suspected it was Dr. Su, who had apparently decided that the crazy people in the cabin in the middle of nowhere who had kidnapped her were not going to kill her after all and felt obligated to see Alec to his feet again.

And holy God, did Alec want to be on his feet again. He’d almost died; he got that, really, but if he had to spend one more second in bed he was going to go mad. So he waited quite impatiently until the house fell silent before sneaking out the back door.

It felt so good to be moving. His legs were a bit wobbly, and a dull ache had wrapped itself around most of his torso, but he really couldn’t have cared less. The air outside the cabin was foggy and still, but it smelled of flowers and green, not pavement and exhaust and human, and was so much cooler than the heat of Seattle, Alec almost couldn’t believe they were even in the same state.

He sat on the ground with his back propped against a tree when he became tired. That bedroom would feel like even more of a prison after this.

Alec was beginning to nod off, when the sound of a vehicle approaching brought him to attention. Climbing to his feet, he crept along the side of the house and peered around the corner. The headlights cut off, and Alec recognized Logan’s Pontiac.

Max was out the front door of the cabin before Logan even had a chance to get out of the car. She halted a couple of paces back from the car with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Logan climbed out and shut the door.

“Thanks for coming.”

“It was kind of short notice, but I managed to get what you asked for.”

Alec expected Max to relax a bit now that she had whatever it was she wanted, but the opposite occurred. Her back was as straight as a board, and it looked like she was digging her fingers into the flesh of her arms.

Logan pulled a slender manila envelope from inside his jacket and offered it to Max. But when she reached for it, he pulled it away, like he wasn’t sure he wanted her to have it. Max just stared, though she was frowning now.

“This is for Alec, isn’t it?” Max didn’t reply. “You failed to mention he was leaving Seattle when White took him.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Max said defensively.

Logan shrugged. “It doesn’t really. But it explains a lot.”

“Yeah, like what?”

“Like the fact that you shot a man. Or that a police report filed the night you rescued Alec stated that a woman was found decapitated in the attic of an abandoned home outside of Seattle. There were two more bodies, one shot, and one with a broken back, but I don’t think you had anything to do with those.”

 _Decapitated_. Alec recalled swords clashing and blood on Max’s face, but he certainly didn’t remember _that._

“What’s your point?” Max shifted her weight, almost holding her body in a defensive stance, like she expected Logan’s reply to strike a physical blow.

“My point is that it’s obvious you feel guilty as hell about whatever it was that happened to make him think he had to leave, and you’re too stubborn to admit to yourself that you love him and _apologize_. You compensated with gratuitous violence.”

Max’s face was guarded. “That’s rich, you giving me advice on my love-life. I kind of feel like I just stepped into the Twilight Zone.”

“You think I don’t think about where we’d be if it weren’t for this stupid virus?” Logan hissed, suddenly fierce. “What our lives would look like? It drives me crazy, sometimes. But part of loving someone is wanting them to be happy, and if he’s going to do it for you, then I can live with that. Don’t make the same mistake we did, Max. You deserve to be happy.”

“So does he,” Max snapped, “and if I don’t do it for him, then I guess I’ll just have to live with it. If he wants to leave, I won’t stop him.” Max reached out and snatched the envelope before Logan even processed what she was doing. “But there’s no reason he should start out with nothing but the clothes on his back.”

“Max!”

She was already walking away. “Let me know if you have any trouble getting into the city. We were going to try to head back tomorrow.”

When Max was gone, Logan swore and kicked the side of his car before flinging the door open and climbing in. He swung the Aztec around and gunned it, dirt and gravel crunching in its wake.

Max was letting Alec go. Max, who fought him on everything, every last detail, was just going to let him walk out of her life without so much as an argument. Alec didn’t know whether to be impressed by her sudden emotional maturity or insulted that she didn’t think he was worth the argument. Or was it that she really thought they’d busted things up so badly that they wouldn’t be able to fix it?

But Alec was the one who had left. He was the one who had copped out, instead of sticking around and proving her wrong. Maybe he was the one who had broken everything. Maybe she was letting him go because she thought it was what he really wanted.

He decided he really ought to stop eavesdropping on Max and Logan’s conversations.

 

Alec was in his room, staring out the window. Sleep had been masterfully elusive, and honestly not that appealing after overhearing Max and Logan argue. He’d been standing there most of the morning.

“Logan called,” Max said, entering the room. “He said they didn’t have any trouble getting back into Seattle, so we’re going to head out in a couple of hours.”

Alec turned to look at her just in time to see her drop his duffel on the floor. It must have been in the van. He tried to make eye contact, but Max was determined to look anywhere but at him.

“I don’t know what your plans are, but I’ll drop you off wherever you want.” She pulled the envelope Alec had seen her take from Logan the night before out of her back pocket and tossed it onto the bed. “Courtesy of Eyes Only.”

“Anxious to be rid of me?” Alec asked, not bothering to mask his venom. “And I don’t want your money.”

“Whatever,” Max said defensively. She shrugged. “I was just trying to be helpful. Don’t take it, if you don’t want it.”

“I don’t.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

Max spun on her heel to leave, and Alec’s chest tightened. They really needed to stop ending conversations this way.

“Max, wait,” he said tiredly.

She did, albeit reluctantly. “What?”

Alec gestured helplessly with his hands. “Is this really how you want things to be?”

“It’s how you wanted it,” she countered. “You’re the one who left. I assumed you’d want to pick up where we left off.”

“I don’t remember you trying to stop me.” Max was silent, her expression dark. “What do you want, Max?”

“What do _you_ want?” she countered, blatantly refusing to answer.

“I want you.”

If Max was going to be difficult, he was going to make himself as clear as possible because he was so fucking tired of dancing this particular jig. And he’d be damned if he took it back, because it was the truth, and she deserved to hear it.

Max’s eyes flew wide, that deer in the headlights look creeping across her countenance.

“Then you’re more of an idiot than I’d thought.” She practically ran out the door.

Alec chased her into the hall and grabbed her arm. He spun her around to face him.

“Then I’m an idiot. But I’m not a liar.”

Max jerked her arm free. “You cannot possibly know what you’re talking about. _I’m poison_ , and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take the money and get as far away from me as possible.”

“That’s such bullshit, and you know it.”

“You almost died because of me!”

“I would have definitely died without you!” Alec shouted back. “Do you think I don’t know everything you did for me? You chopped off Thula’s head, Max. You don’t get to do that and then act like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Max shrank back, like she was going to flee again, so Alec grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. Very close. Close enough that he could smell her hair and feel her breath on his cheek.

“So what the fuck do you want? Because I can’t figure you out and I can’t keep guessing. I’m tired of getting it wrong, and I’m tired of us never being on the same page. I have to know, Max, so you gotta say it.”

Max swallowed hard and opened her mouth, but no words emerged, like they’d gotten stuck.

“ _What do you want?_ ” Alec repeated, his voice low.

“Stay.”

Alec released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Okay.”

“Wha-?”

He silenced her with a kiss, every cell in his body singing out when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

“See now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Max rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

 

Artwork http://skylar0grace.livejournal.com/102073.html


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